


The Sleeping Beauty Debacle of Haruhi Suzumiya

by Sylviavolk2000



Category: Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu | The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylviavolk2000/pseuds/Sylviavolk2000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Her iron grip clamped on my elbow. Recently, I’d made a resolution to act my age and face the future with eyes open, so I didn’t avert my gaze from her smile. One thousand percent purest sunshine, was it? That smile. It’s so her, and it only grew wider as I stared back, feeling transfixed.<br/>Hey, Haruhi. You’re hurting my arm now.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her iron grip clamped on my elbow. Recently, I’d made a resolution to act my age and face the future with eyes open, so I didn’t avert my gaze from her smile. One thousand percent purest sunshine, was it? That smile. It’s so her, and it only grew wider as I stared back, feeling transfixed.  
> Hey, Haruhi. You’re hurting my arm now.

Disclaimer: fiction here, just fiction, not mine, nothing to see, move along, move along ...

 

This is a story that took place just after the beginning of my second year in high school.  
It’s important to slot events into their correct time and place in the big puzzle box of life. Otherwise how can anyone understand what just happened? So, then. It was April. A certain double series of days had just climaxed with pseudo-chaotic hijinks in the literature clubroom, such that I finally understood the definition of catharsis, and the resulting anticlimax and resolution had left me totally exhausted.  
In other words the SOS Brigade had triumphantly routed the pretenders to Haruhi’s power. Though according to Koizumi, all the real work had been done by Haruhi’s subconscious.  
I didn’t really care. I certainly hadn’t understood that frenzied final scene in the clubroom, but life rolls on, and I’m not the sort to want to endlessly revisit the past. Time-travel just messes with your inner ear and makes you want to puke on your sneakers. Trust me, it’s no fun.  
But I did have a problem to do with time-travel.  
I’d woken up in the wee hours three nights straight, sitting up in bed with hands covering my face, remembering. A certain detail about that confusing time kept resurfacing in my mind. I couldn’t dismiss it. I wanted to, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. I still had work left undone.  
Yeah, I had something to do.

Haruhi, meanwhile, was in her element.  
I’d seldom seen her so full of joie de vive. She’d come up with the crackbrain idea of staging a playlet at the upcoming Tsuruya flower-viewing party, and no matter how shamelessly I whined and pleaded, she just wouldn’t give up on it. But of all the things! Why pick Sleeping Beauty?  
I mean, really.  
So twisted.  
Before I knew it, she’d already written a one-act adaptation—though she hadn’t let us read it yet—and was sketching out backdrop ideas on the clubroom whiteboard. There are enough disturbing undercurrents in that particular fairytale to qualify it as fantasy horror, but that didn’t seem to phase her. She’d written our names along one side of the whiteboard, each name followed with a string of question marks. And she’d written her own name up there too. So, not content to be merely the playwright, director, and art designer, she intended to step out into the lights and take the lead role.  
Three guesses who was gonna be dragged onstage to play her love interest.  
Yeah.  
“Gender bender is the way to go here,” Haruhi said with evil nonchalance, leering like a crocodile at an already-trembling Asahina-san. “The prince has the biggest part, so I’ll handle that. Anyway, look!” Whipping out a cardboard shipping box, the label sticker still dangling. “Look, Mikuru! ‘Sexy Princess’!”  
We all looked.  
“Er ... what S&M site did you order that from, Haruhi?”  
“Kyon. Shut up, okay? It’s Sleeping Beauty, so the princess has to be in some kind of nightgown. Edgy stuff is also very much in these days. Stop crying, Mikuru. You’re going to make a magnificent Beauty. And it’s not like you’re going to be forced to kiss a guy or anything.”  
While Asahina whimpered in the corner, she lined up the rest of us and walked up and down eyeing us, frowning. Me, Nagato, Koizumi. She stared at us relentlessly. “I already have a prime role in mind for Yuki. But you two ...”  
I remembered that Koizumi doesn’t like being on stage that much. His smile was brave but ragged.  
Gender bender Sleeping Beauty, with Haruhi playing the role of the prince. Just how far around the bend does she want to take this?  
Am I gonna be forced to wear a dress?  
No. No, I refuse—although Haruhi can run faster than I can. I edged toward the door anyway.  
Her iron grip clamped on my elbow. Recently, I’d made a resolution to act my age and face the future with eyes open, so I didn’t avert my gaze from her smile. One thousand percent purest sunshine, was it? That smile. It’s so her, and it only grew wider as I stared back, feeling transfixed.  
Hey, Haruhi. You’re hurting my arm now.  
She suddenly let go. We jumped back from each other. “I have to think about this,” Haruhi said. “I’ll sleep on it.”

I woke up late that night, just like the previous night. Bolt upright, cold sweat, heart hammering. I looked at my bedside clock’s glowing display: 12:18 AM. Yeah, roughly the same time every night for four nights running now. And always with the same creepy feeling.  
It seemed different tonight, though. I remembered the dream that woke me.  
A shuffling footstep. Hoarse breathing. Opening my eyes with a start, to see a shadowy form looming over my bed; my bedroom door was open about five centimetres, a glow coming from the hall. I’d relaxed and started to sit up, to ask my little sister what the hell game she thought she was playing—had I slept through my alarm again, was it morning?—but then I’d heard her voice.  
She’d spoken, and it had knocked me shuddering out of the nightmare into the waking world. _Good grief that was frightening_ was all I could say about it.  
Weird stuff. Was I even at the right time in my sleep cycle for REM activity? Didn’t think so.  
12:22.  
12:46.  
1:09.  
I couldn’t get back to sleep. I ended up lying flat on my back with my arms crossed behind my head, just like on the three previous nights, thinking. It was that one detail from that series of events in the clubroom that plagued me. No—not one detail. Probably three insignificant little details that had passed right over my head at the time.  
Back then, I’d totally lost it. The shadow of Haruhi had fallen upon us, everyone around me had freaked out (except Koizumi, who’d seemed to be having the time of his life) but what I mostly remembered was how I’d chewed the scenery for what seemed five minutes straight, then screamed and jumped out of the window.  
Humiliating. So uncool. Being caught in the hand of a Celestial was no consolation. Right after, I’d lost my hold on Haruhi, then been bounced all over the future and ended up landing mysteriously atop her in her bed, one month onward.  
Over a week had passed since my return. The one-year anniversary of the SOS Brigade was coming up fast ... well, I still had three weeks. Two and a half. Plenty of time to pick out Haruhi’s gift. Still didn’t have a clue what to get her, though. That was probably why I was now having nightmares.  
But still.  
As I was thrown forward in time, I’d heard Asahina the Younger’s voice.  
It had definitely been her voice. So she’d been there, in that closed space. So ... it must have been Asahina who forced me into the future. I’d experienced flying sensations at the time too, a gentle experience of floating. Add one and one, and even the slowest math student could come up with two eventually.  
Asahina the Younger: because she had been there. I’d heard her voice, hadn’t I?  
Koizumi: because Asahina couldn’t enter closed space unless an esper took her there.  
My thoughts chased each other like hamsters.  
Was this a fixed event?  
Yeah. Probably.  
But Koizumi had been busy elsewhere, with Asahina the Elder. And he can’t be in two places at once unless a time-traveler helps. Hence Asahina will need to move him through time, so that he can take her into closed space at the proper moment.  
But the likelihood that the two of them would work together unless forced to—well, zero was the word for it. I suspect that Koizumi and Nagato have double-teamed me from time to time, but never Koizumi and Asahina.  
But it was a fixed event.  
But it probably wouldn’t happen unless somebody (me) told Koizumi and Asahina what they needed to do.  
But I really, really don’t want to see Koizumi’s orgasm face when I tell him he’s gonna go time-traveling at last.  
“Crap, I’m even boring myself.”  
I gave up on it and finally got back to sleep.  
Morning came far too soon. Not achieving my proper quota of sleep leaves me feeling foggier than any zombie, but I got myself upright and dressed, reversed my blazer at the breakfast table and put it back on right-side out, and headed out to school.  
I halted on the doorstep. My little sister, her schoolbag swinging, ran happily away in the direction of her school. Somehow she hadn’t seen that Koizumi and Nagato were waiting just across the street.  
He sat on the curb, head down, nursing a thermos between his hands. She stood behind him, immobile. Her expression was several microns toward the perturbed, ie., the same expression as usual except that she was gazing at me instead of at the sidewalk. I headed for them, and Koizumi lifted his face and gave me a thin, terrified smile.  
I concluded that the 200-metre gorilla named Haruhi had been on the loose.  
I didn’t know how bad it was yet, though. Not until Koizumi said, “There was closed space surrounding your house last night. And not the normal kind of closed space either—this was the kind that we couldn’t penetrate.”  
The end-of-the-world kind.  
Nagato said in her monotone: “It lasted two minutes nine seconds, ending at 12:18 AM. During that time, you were not in this world.”  
My nightmare about my sister. Right then I knew the worst:  
That hadn’t been a nightmare.  
That hadn’t been my sister.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right there on the first page she had my character assignment:   
> _KYON: the embodiment of the Princess’ desire. An asexual symbol of frustration._

We ended up walking to school together, a first. It had become normal for the SOS Brigade to walk home as a group (and when had that happened?) but I always made the uphill schoolward trek alone. Until now, that is. I might meet up with Kunikida or Taniguchi toward the homestretch, but that was all. Doing it differently today was fine, though. I’d got used to my fellow brigade members at some point during the previous year. In fact if we didn’t meet every day, I felt a kind of subliminal irk. As if my skin didn’t fit anymore. A sense that things weren’t right with my world. Was that loneliness? Though actually talking with Koizumi often made me wish him elsewhere.  
He was jawing now. “We at the Agency didn’t see this coming. Our psychological analysis called for a period of stability and growth, much like last year after that other time you were together in closed space. Although you have never told us what you did there. We thought the events of that Friday would also serve to stabilize Suzumiya’s psyche, but it seems we were wrong.”  
“...”  
Nagato was trailing behind us. Seemed like she had nothing to add.  
Koizumi shifted slightly closer. “You also vanished for two hours that Friday, but you’ve yet to mention where.”  
That’s right.  
“Well. Can I ask this? Do you think the two events are related?”  
You can ask.  
Nagato probably knows everything about that Friday, but when she decides to keep her mouth shut, nothing short of a planet-killer asteroid will jar it open. Still, if I wanted Koizumi’s help with the fixed event, I’d have to dish sooner or later.  
No—the fixed event was a sideshow at the moment. Dealing with it would wait. One crisis at a time.  
“You talked with Asahina the Elder, back then,” I said. “Did she tell you anything?”  
“She didn’t give me a warning, if that’s what you mean.” He sighed and brushed hair out of his eyes. The sigh turned into a yawn halfway. I guess he didn’t get any sleep last night. “Our own Asahina hasn’t phoned or otherwise made contact, either.”  
I wonder if there’s a letter in my shoe locker.  
There wasn’t. Damn. Nagato and Koizumi were still with me, neither one showing any inclination to split off toward their own classrooms. So they were still feeling disturbed. Koizumi was even fidgeting. Yep, a clear indication of imminent apocalypse, although he was still managing a semblance of a smile. Not much of a semblance though. Haruhi, luckily, had yet to make her entrance—I say _luckily_ because he wouldn’t have fooled her for an instant.  
“You won’t answer questions,” said Koizumi out of a clear blue sky.  
There aren’t many questions that the Agency can’t answer way better than I can. Because I’m just a kid. A perfectly normal teenager. Powerless.  
He carried on. “Not about what happened in that closed space a year ago, though from the few hints you’ve let drop, one can make an educated guess.”  
...  
“Nor about those two missing hours that Friday.”  
Ditto.  
“Nor about what you experienced at 12:16 AM this morning?”  
Re-ditto. Wait, that’s not really a word. I take it back.  
“No, I suppose not,” said Koizumi after a long pause. “May I say something, though? There’s such a thing as being too self-sufficient. When the stakes are high enough, asking for help is usually a better course than trying to tough it out alone ... when the fate of the earth is in the balance, for instance. And we really are here to help.”  
But even after all this time, I haven’t learned how to reliably sort out his fake expressions as opposed to his real ones. I also know that he and the Agency have always made more out of those closed space episodes than the actual truth, what really happened. Nothing happened. Nothing of any lasting worth. One kiss may be a stopgap cure for whatever ails Haruhi, because human beings aren’t logical, but as a long-term solution? Give me a break. The whole idea stinks. However monumental a kiss it may have been. (Hint: I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.) Because fairytales are just fairytales, and kisses are just fleeting physical contact, and Haruhi and I were relative strangers back then. That kiss was only a cheap fix.  
That’s all.  
Nothing but a meaningless physical encounter. Haruhi has never said anything more romantic to me than the equivalent of, “Hey, dummy!” Leave out the question of what I feel. No, it’s worse, because she warps reality with her wishes, and for someone with that power to be constantly blurting out comments about how romance is a mental illness ... well, the implications aren’t pretty, are they?

When I got to homeroom, Haruhi was already there. Given that nightmare-that-wasn’t, it was a relief to note that she didn’t stare at me in a threatening way. Nor did she look any different than usual. She was just sorting through a handful of flyers, frowning down at them. Instead of a hello she said, “Heads up. Pop quiz in English this afternoon.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Oh, so you aren’t panicking? I’m impressed.” She glanced up. “Are you okay? You look weird.”  
“I haven’t been sleeping well.”  
“Huh, never heard you say that before.”  
She did look different, on second glance. Or maybe it was acting different, not looking different: something had changed about the quality of her gaze, which normally seems to take in the whole of existence and claim it for her own. She didn’t seem to take in the whole of existence today. Or maybe it was my over-active imagination? She finally shrugged and bit her lip, looking elsewhere, and then shuffled her flyers and fanned them out for me to see.  
Oh. University flyers. Well, it was about the time for second-years to pick prospective universities and begin seriously working toward the admission requirements. I guessed that the teachers were handing out flyers to any interested students. And Haruhi’s grades are top-notch, enough so that all the teachers are probably taking an interest. Mr. Okabe had probably hand-delivered those flyers to her, representing prestigious campuses that would be eager to have her enroll.  
“What do you think?” she asked. “Not that we have to choose yet. They’re all good, though. Should I just throw them in the air and pick the one that doesn’t come down? Or what?”  
I didn’t answer for a moment. I’d just spotted the campus photo on one of the flyers, a typical scenic shot of a university quad. New-looking buildings, a clock tower, a beautifully groomed stretch of lawn across which well-dressed young men and women roamed, books in hand ... I’d grabbed it before I knew what I was doing, and unfolded it to take in the whole picture.  
I have seldom seen Haruhi look so taken-aback. “Not that one,” she protested. “Look what it specializes in—all the wrong things.”  
Even I knew the name of this particular university. It was famous for the business and political careers of its alumni. Was this where she was going, then?  
It was definitely the campus I’d seen in her future. The clock tower clinched it.  
“Aim there, I guess.” Though I’m not sure if I muttered it too quietly or not.  
It’s also Target A for Asahina. Though knowing where it was, didn’t help me figure out _when_ it was. Well, maybe I’d get a memo later. I put on a nonchalant look for Haruhi, still watching me with her jaw dropped, but all she did was say, “Dork,” and then, to my total surprise, she suddenly tossed the whole fistful of remaining flyers straight up. They fell scattered across her desk and the floor, and Haruhi snatched away the one I held, grinned, and sat down to read it.  
Oo-kay.

The pop quiz wasn’t too bad, all considering.

After classes ended.  
Haruhi brought the flyers along to the clubroom, but once we arrived, she dropped them carelessly onto the table and walked away. She clapped her hands twice, and Asahina popped up like magic with the teapot, while Koizumi pushed the chessboard fractionally sideways, and even Nagato shifted slightly in her corner. Meeting time. Oh joy.  
I saw that Haruhi had been making stuff at home again: a pair of rather impressive costume heads had been left leaned against the side of the refrigerator. A horse-head on a stick, the kind that you wear for a masquerade. A classy long white horsetail apparently completed the costume. The second costume head was a donkey’s. I winced. Haruhi was, of course, already grinning shamelessly at me.  
“Scared?” she needled. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, those are both for Koizumi. He’s going to play a bunch of different parts, with quick-changes. Our all-around guy. And Yuki—” She swerved away, ending up in front of the silently watching Nagato. “I haven’t built your costume yet, but how do you feel about being a thicket of thorns?”  
Nagato’s silence seemed receptive to the idea.  
“Great! I knew I could count on you! You’re going to guard the way to the tower where the princess waits. With killer thorns. All pretenders will tragically die. It’ll make a great scene, I know it.”  
Haruhi opened her book-bag and brought out a sheaf of photocopied scripts. She passed them out.  
Just one glance at the first page—the cast list—and I took a metaphorical step back, with a sense of gathering doom. You have got to be kidding, Haruhi.  
“I never kid. I guess you wanted Mikuru to play a boy’s part or something, is that it? I thought of that too, it would be more consistent with the overall casting, but it’s just not possible. I mean, given her boob size. So she has to be Princess Beauty. As for you ...”  
Her laugh was far too loud.  
“Anyway, I want to do a walk-through of the script today, just to get an idea of our lines. That’s especially important for you, Kyon, because you’ve got the bulk of the dialogue. And then if we really hustle we can get started building the scenery. Let’s start!”  
Right there on the first page she had my character assignment:   
_KYON: the embodiment of the Princess’ desire. An asexual symbol of frustration._  
And that was only the beginning. I leafed frantically through the remainder of the pages. Koizumi reads faster than I do. He’d already finished while I was still only halfway, so that when I looked up at last, the first thing I saw was the smile gone from his face.   
We can’t use this script.   
Seriously, we can’t.   
The world will end.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, the requirements of the scene called for me and the frustrated prince to stand toe to toe and slug it out with speeches about love. Koizumi (donkey) appeared to fulfill the functions of a referee. I have no idea why this play has not one but two talking animals. Asahina, in her new nightgown, lay on the clubroom table with her winter maid-costume apron rolled up under her head for a pillow.

Let’s start right out by saying you won’t find an evil stepmother, wicked witch or dragon anywhere in this version of Sleeping Beauty.  
If I called Haruhi out on that little omission, she might blow me off completely or else toss out an answer. Depends on her mood. If she comes up with an answer, it’s 99.99 percent sure it’d just be whatever pops into her head. Because she has no real plan—we learned that when we shot the movie last year—she’s just doing everything off the cuff now, the same way she did then. Straight out of whatever crazy Yellowstone her inspiration springs from, no thought required, anything goes. As usual.  
Koizumi and I were exiled so Asahina could be undressed and forced into costume—not the bondage princess getup, but her good old battle waitress outfit. “Just for the first scene,” Haruhi had said. “Because Princess Beauty is mingling with the common folk, in disguise!” Apparently the bondage nightgown was being saved for later. I couldn’t help it if my brain still spontaneously generated memories of how that costume had looked as Haruhi held it up in front of herself for us to ogle, I mean admire. Though Asahina’s apparently okay with revealing costumes as long as she doesn’t have to go out in public in them.  
Wait, this is all going to be shown to the public later.  
In front of a full house of staring strangers.  
While I went off in a tangent, obsessing over something less pleasant than Asahina in a nightgown, Koizumi chuckled lightly. I looked sharply at him. It seemed like he’d recovered his usual poise.  
“Given recent events, I was at first concerned,” he said, leafing through his copy of the script. “That is, having you and Suzumiya enact these particular roles, saying these lines, over and over during rehearsals ... but no, I was probably over-reacting. I now believe it may have a beneficial effect.”  
“Are you a moron?”  
It’s going to be a disaster.  
“Well, most men would be pleased to find themselves cast in your role, you know.”  
That’s easy for him to say, he’s not about to become an asexual symbol of frustration!  
“What makes you think she sees you as asexual? If anything, when it comes to personal matters she usually says the opposite of what she means. Oh, you mean you haven’t noticed that? And yet you seem to be watching her quite closely of late ... Since last week, anyway.”  
“She usually complains I’m a pervert,” I pointed out.  
“I rest my case.”  
About tonight though, I said. If Haruhi tries to drag me into that closed space with her, what could be done? If I was in a lead-lined room, would it keep her out?  
“I doubt it. This isn’t a comic book. Did you have some course of action in mind?”  
Hopping a fast plane to Greenland came to mind, I said.  
Koizumi tapped his lips with his rolled-up script, a knowing look in his eyes; it was irritating. “If I may say so, running away probably won’t work. Why would it? Suzumiya has no limits. Perhaps you should plan to face your problem head-on. I’m confident that if you do, you’ll find a happy ending. The two of you have always been well-suited, after all.”  
The typical Koizumi nonsense. When he gets that way, debate only leads to embarrassment; shutting up is the best course. Okay, no lead-lined hiding places, no planes to distant countries. Farraday cages are probably also out. Looked like the Agency wasn’t going to be any help.  
Well, my help of next resort was more trustworthy than the Agency, any day of the week. Nagato. The clubroom door flew open and Haruhi hauled me inside, Koizumi following, and I looked instinctively toward the corner where Nagato was usually to be found, reading.  
She wasn’t there. She was standing by the whiteboard, holding up a bedsheet, rather after the manner of a barrier or wall.  
“Yuki’s the stage backdrop in this scene,” Haruhi said. Haruhi herself wore a yellow construction-paper crown. Asahina in battle-waitress splendor stood next to Nagato, twisting her script copy between restless fingers. “Okay, Mikuru, scene one! Action!”  
“Er ... I am the beauteous Princess Beauty, mingling with the common folk! In disguise! Er ... standing right next to the castle wall. Um.”  
Nagato, face blank, stood so still that her bedsheet didn’t even tremor. She made a convincing castle wall.  
“In the public marketplace.” Koizumi had picked up the horse-head on the stick. “The beauteous yet lonely Princess Beauty.”  
He went on commentating, delivering the playlet’s introduction. Princess Beauty, as yet unbetrothed, longing for love, etc, etc. A prince from a neighbouring kingdom had also mingled with the common folk in the public marketplace, unbeknownst to our lonely Beauty, and in the opening scene they spotted each other through the crowd. Two houses both alike in dignity and all that. Haruhi in her construction-paper crown did a creditable mime job, very convincing indeed, of a masculine swagger. In a jiffy she and Asahina had crossed the imaginary stage and were face to face.  
Alas, Princess Beauty was the shy type, and the overwhelming sex appeal of Prince Charming soon reduced her to mush. Or something like that. Anyway, she fled, the prince in pursuit, and Nagato-the-wall stepped between them. Nagato raised her sheet high. The princess had retreated to her tower. There Asahina stood on a chair and emoted (no lines; third-person narration by Koizumi, in the marketplace below) until she swooned from the weight of love, falling off her chair and hitting her head.  
This bit of stage business could have been quite dangerous, since Asahina’s not the most graceful girl on Earth. Luckily Nagato was there to catch her and lower her safely to a prone position on the floor. End scene.  
“Okay, Mikuru! Time for your new costume! Time to shine!”  
Koizumi and I legged it for the hall.  
I don’t need to say how mind-boggling Asahina looked when we returned to the clubroom to see her, first time ever, in her latest outfit.  
Scene two. I stepped onstage for the first time, representing a feverish dream persona generated by the unconscious Princess Beauty. Nagato-the-wall had transformed into Nagato-the-thicket-of-killer-thorns. Everyone in the castle had fallen victim to a dream generated by the sleeping princess, no one able to break the spell. Help from without could not pass the thicket of thorns. Only a bodiless spirit could cross the divide between dream and waking worlds. In other words: me.  
“You need a costume,” Haruhi said, walking critically around me as I stood with the script in my hand. I felt defenceless. She draped a scarf over my head, and found the right page in her own script. “Okay, three ... two ... one ... here we go.”  
The balance of the scene required the frustrated Prince Haruhi and the dream spirit (me) to trade dialogue about their feelings. Bonus narration by Koizumi, still portraying a horse—he was the prince’s white stallion, I believe. The prince didn’t recognise the dream spirit, who looked quite different from Princess Beauty. Yeah. The dream spirit was conflicted and confused.  
“May I make a suggestion?” asked Koizumi. “Some physical comedy might be useful here. Just in addition to your lines, to add liveliness to the scene.”  
“You mean like pratfalls?” Haruhi considered it. “Good suggestion. Yeah, I can totally see it. This is a comedy after all. Yeah, great.”  
She scribbled on her script. Pratfalls to come, check.  
A couple more lines and then I got to duck behind Nagato’s sheet, leaving the prince declaiming about being of two minds about his quest. End scene.  
“This is pretty cliched,” I pointed out. I pulled off the scarf and used it to mop my forehead, which had become sweaty.  
“I’d like to see you do better. Your story for the literary newsletter was totally lame.”  
Scene three. Time had apparently passed. The prince’s white stallion had been traded in for a lowly donkey. “I’m in rags now,” Haruhi said. “Many other less lucky princes have perished on the thicket of thorns, never reaching the princess’ bedchamber.” She had taken off her paper crown. Maybe the prince had hocked his crown for food along the way? Probably.  
Again, the requirements of the scene called for me and the frustrated prince to stand toe to toe and slug it out with speeches about love. Koizumi (donkey) appeared to fulfill the functions of a referee. I have no idea why this play has not one but two talking animals. Asahina, in her new nightgown, lay on the clubroom table with her winter maid-costume apron rolled up under her head for a pillow. She had her arms crossed tightly over her breasts and her eyes squeezed shut.  
But never mind what she looked like, I caught myself wondering exactly how good an actress she really was. No lines for her in this scene, she just had to lie there and be ornamental. Still, I understand she has a computer in her head. Possessing something like that ought to make you able to memorize any amount of script pages. Let’s let Asahina and Nagato deliver the entire play as a two-actor minimalist stage production, which would save me from having to appear in public, and also satisfy Haruhi since then we could go avant-garde and have nude scenes. I bet Haruhi’s longing for an excuse to have nude scenes.  
That costume’s tantamount to nudity already. What if Asahina catches her death of cold? Our comedy could turn to tragedy in an instant.  
Maybe Haruhi decoded my sighs, because she broke off in mid-romantic-monologue, her lips tightly compressing. “Mikuru! Let’s cover you up. It’s way too cold in here, even if it is springtime.”  
Asahina nodded eagerly.  
With Asahina’s assets more decently draped, we went on reading our lines. “No more living in denial,” from Koizumi (donkey). “No turning your back, no looking away.”  
Haruhi read: “The whole year spent striving, but I’m still empty-handed. Why?”  
A shiver of recognition went through me as she read the line. Last night, in the nightmare-that-wasn’t—those were pretty much the same words my bedroom visitor had uttered. Words so ill-fitted to the situation that they’d creeped me right out.  
“What’s wrong with you, Kyon? Don’t just stand there like you saw a ghost.”  
I started and almost dropped my script. It took a moment to find my place again and read the next line: “In truth I thought it was better to regret something I hadn’t done, instead of something I did ...”  
Honestly, where’s she getting all this? Is she mainlining it straight out of the aether or what? Haruhi shouldn’t be able to quote the long-vanished Ryoko Asakura. She shouldn’t be dredging stuff out of other people’s heads, making it all up, writing it down for the world to hear. It’s preposterous.  
“Stop.” Haruhi suddenly lowered her own script. “This isn’t working. Kyon, you’re the world’s worst actor.” She tossed her script onto the table. “Look at me when you read your lines. Not at the wall or whatever. You’re hopeless. The Spirit has to face the Prince, the two of them have to react to each other. Look, there have to be undercurrents. What is your problem!? Are you blind?”

After all that fuss, we didn’t get any further than the end of the third scene, nor did we manage to build any stage scenery. The whole fourth scene still awaited. Haruhi made hair-tearing gestures and then said sensibly, “Well, tomorrow we’ll pick up where we stopped and carry on from there. I want to write the pratfalls into scene two tonight anyway. Meet up here at 9 sharp tomorrow morning and we’ll keep rehearsing, okay?” Did I mention that today’s Friday? Yes, tomorrow’s Saturday, no school, and we can read those lines all day long if her excellency the brigade chief so desires. That’s if the world doesn’t end tonight, that is.  
Oh, the farce that is my life.  
I don’t know where Koizumi gets his ideas, but I’m still convinced that all this stuff in the playlet is gonna make things worse, not better. Way, way worse. Not because of the content, but because I really am no actor. Just thinking of the ordeal at the Tsuruya flower-viewing party, when we put on this play for real in front of an actual audience ... man, it’ll be worse than the reindeer torture last Christmas. A _mole_ of worse. I’m in a cold sweat right now. Anticipatory terror.  
Haruhi’s furious and frustrated, and we’ve just barely begun rehearsals. A couple more sessions of beating me over the head with the rolled-up script, and she’ll be ready to chew nails, loose Celestials, whatever.  
And ...  
I’m not gonna have any time to find her a gift either, am I? We’ll be working every waking minute on this over-ambitious production. I was planning to hit the shops this weekend and browse for some hopeful inspiration. But that’s a vain hope now.  
Time to panic in earnest.  
No. One thing at a time, one thing at a time, one thing at a time.  
I can get through this.  
I’m just obsessing because I got less than my required ten-and-a-half hours sleep last night. That’s made me a zombie, probably affecting my ability to act too. Everything will seem better if I nap this evening after supper, catch up on my sleep.  
Focus. First thing I have to have a word with Nagato about tonight; that’s the priority.  
“...”  
I looked up and there she was, ghosting along silently next to me. I almost went head over heels.  
“...”  
I’d been lost in thought, walking along like an automaton. We were about halfway to the station where our ways usually part. Haruhi was somewhat in the lead, arm in arm with Asahina. The pair of them had their heads together and seemed to be having a serious confab, unusually so for them. At least, Haruhi was talking at length into Asahina’s ear, with a serious expression on her face. She gestured with a spread hand from time to time. Behind them, Koizumi hung back about halfway between the Haruhi/Asahina duo and the second duo of me and Nagato. He was positioned as if ready to run interference once Haruhi noticed Nagato wasn’t up front with the other girls in her normal place. That should happen any moment. Haruhi doesn’t usually miss that kind of detail. She’ll finish saying whatever she’s got to say to Asahina, spot us, and the jig will be up.  
Gotta seize the opportunity to talk, then. And make it fast. “About tonight,” I started.  
Nagato’s black crystal gaze met mine. “No,” she said.  
“If there’s some way I can be hidden in frozen time or that data jurisdiction whatever of yours— Wha?”  
“It is probably not possible.” Nagato spoke plainly. “Nor is it advisable for you and I to collude at this juncture. I have no means to aid you in this, and seeking shelter with me would be futile. It would likely only make matters worse.”  
Gack.  
“—Such is our analysis.” Having said her piece, she shut her mouth, turned her back on me, and forged ahead past Koizumi to her usual place in line.  
I’m on my own.

So here’s the score so far.  
Koizumi’s no help. Because he and the Agency have come down with a fatal case of belief in the Power of Romance.  
Nagato’s not gonna lift a finger on my behalf, for totally incomprehensible reasons of her own. I get that, Nagato. But why is it that when emergency’s incoming, that’s when you have to revert to cryptic alien mode?  
Well, I knew that. I always knew it. The Data Entity’s always made its position plain: it won’t interfere except in the case of a lack of Haruhi-fireworks. That’s obviously not the case here. I bet it’s got eleven contingency plans for surviving the remaking of reality. Maybe. Can it even do that? Or does it know something it’s not telling? Probably.  
Anyway, I should never have broken my resolution not to depend on help from them. I need to stand on my own two feet.  
I’m on my own.

Okay, I know I’m not at my best for lack of sleep, but maybe I ought to phone Asahina the Younger and throw myself on her mercy. Resolution or no resolution. Since time travelers now seem like my last resort.  
And yet, Asahina the Younger? Of late she’s seemed even more out of it than me. She’s a senior now and ought to be immersed in studies twenty-four/seven. I’m surprised she even has time to spare for the playlet. She bustles around with tea in the clubroom same as always, but during the Yasumi incident, Asahina was the only one who didn’t have a clue. Her older incarnation might be of help, but I don’t have her older incarnation’s phone number. Although I would love to own the phone number of Asahina the Elder with her superhuman measurements.  
No, wait.  
Everything will be all right. I should know that. I’ve been to the future, to the anniversary of the founding of our brigade. Everything was okay then, smiles on everyone’s faces. Except Nagato’s of course, but whatever. The world was chugging along just fine. Past tense’s not the right choice to phrase future events in, at least I don’t think so, but my point stands. We’re gonna get past this, because we _did_ get past it. Right?

While I monologued to myself, we’d reached the station. The others dispersed in their various directions and I turned to head for home.  
“Kyon?”  
Haruhi.  
We walked next to each other, not touching. A brigade chief and her loyal subordinate out on a sunny Friday afternoon. To my relief, she didn’t harangue me about my zero potential for a career on the stage, but we didn’t lapse into an uncomfortable silence either. A few comments about the English quiz were traded.  
Seems like she’s got over her snit about the play, thank goodness.  
I watched her inconspicuously. It’s almost exactly a year since that first episode in closed space. According to Koizumi’s interpretation, which is supported by circumstantial evidence and may come close to the truth, at that time Haruhi’s subconscious mind tried to junk this world in favor of a new, improved model. I’d tried to persuade her the world was worth keeping. We’d kissed—I admit it. Afterward, we both felt like we’d been through a nightmare.  
Do I have a point here? Yes.  
My point is that there was absolutely no prior warning. Not even Nostrodamus could have seen it coming.  
No warning, no reason, no solid explanation, no way to understand. Not a good way to face the oncoming runaway train-wreck explosion of the subconscious—blind, deaf and dumb.  
Haruhi was leafing through a hefty hardcover as we walked. She noticed me looking. “Koizumi gave it to me.”  
“Huh, that doesn’t seem like him.”  
“Yeah, when I looked in on his class during recess he gave it to me. I’m floored. It’s not math or science, even, though I have to admit it’s a pretty interesting subject. In an aberrant way. But it’s just nothing like I ever expected him to be into.”  
“I’m just guessing here—Freudian psychology?”  
“Not even close.”  
She held it up so I could read the cover, then stowed it in her bag.  
She doesn’t sound disturbed or melancholy. I would say her aura was perfectly normal, primary colors blazing and superhuman energy to the fore. Pure Haruhi. Today during classes her smile had been at full 100-watt strength.  
“I’m just surprised at him, I guess. He did a bunch of ad-libbing during the script walk-through too, what did you think of that?”  
I can’t say I noticed.  
“I bet he’s going to ask me out.”  
The hell he is, not in a million years.  
 _Whump._  
I was sitting in the gutter, holding my ribs and wheezing for breath. By the time I managed to look around, she’d vanished.  
I didn’t say those words aloud! They were only in my head, I swear it! I didn’t say anything! What just happened??  
Er, where am I anyway? I don’t even recognise this street.  
Is this Haruhi’s street? Is one of these houses her home? I only saw it fleetingly in the middle of the night and can’t spot it now in daylight, if this actually is her street.  
I honestly didn’t say anything aloud. Didn’t answer her remark. It’s a relief that I don’t have my foot in my mouth on that count, but still. I don’t know where we are—Haruhi and me.  
... Wow, I don’t know the route home from here either.  
Screw it, I’m lost: let me count the ways.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep thought. Planning. Phone sex with Asahina the Elder.

Here’s a question: how can you tell for sure what’s on someone else’s mind?  
I mean really tell. Koizumi says he can’t figure Haruhi out, though he’s spent significant amounts of time fighting monsters in her subconscious. Mind you, I’ve been there too and can bear witness that you won’t find any convenient billboards stating _Here’s what the girl thinks_. Or road-signs. Though it would be easier on all of us if there were such things. I’m sure the Agency would be relieved.  
Well, if they’re stymied, then I’m not going to waste my time on the question. If human beings were designed to have perfect communication with each other, we’d probably all be raving mad by now or else dead with axes embedded in our foreheads.  
Haruhi texted me.   
It wasn’t that long after she’d slugged me and left me in the gutter, maybe fifteen minutes tops. I hadn’t even made it halfway home. I was just trudging along gloomily contemplating my lateness for dinner, my mom’s sad face and the plate of microwaved leftovers that was my lot in life. Pretty shabby fuel to keep me alert tonight. My feet hurt, and my ribs ached—I was gonna have bruises, I could tell. It was enough to make a guy wish for an unmarked black taxi to coast to a stop nearby. Arakawa could invite me for a lift home and I would accept with a bow of heartfelt gratitude.  
Then my cell dinged, and I looked and saw it was a text from her.  
I did have a plan, so I was happy to open her message:  
 _About what I said. A long time ago I decided not to settle for an ordinary life. I told you that once though I don’t remember when. Anyway, dating’s just part of the ordinary-life package. It’s an empty ritual, a human mating dance. Just animal behavior with a fancy coat of paint. I don’t buy into it. I don’t need to be an animal. I think, ergo I rebel. If everyone around you pushes you to do something, do the opposite and surprise the world!_  
I stared at my phone display, then sent a reply: _Where are you going with this?  
So what I said was a joke but all you did was stand there with that dumb face. All serious. You deserved to get thumped. Why weren’t you laughing?!_  
Okay. I reread what she had to say about dating a couple of times, and considered forwarding it to Koizumi for his perusal. I mean, shouldn’t he be informed about this kind of important Haruhi-opinion? The Agency would want to know.   
I texted her back.  
Two seconds later I got an answer: _Do it and you’re DEAD Kyon._  
And about half a block later, she sent: _About the play. Don’t obsess over your part. I’m rewriting it all tonight anyway._  
Oh, yeah? Then you can do something about those speeches in the third act, because they frankly drip rancid syrup.  
 _Ha ha ha, like I’d consult you. They’re gooey, you’re right, but this is a fairytale remember? The dialogue has to reflect the genre. These are the proper lines for Prince Charming and the Princess’ restless Spirit._  
I was home. I sat down on the curb, roughly where Koizumi had sat earlier, and carried on tacking keys. Give Koizumi my part, I texted. I’ll do the narrator.  
 _Sorry. Quit squirming. You’re not getting away that easy._  
Sorry right back, Haruhi. I don’t have any pride, so I went on squirming: _Give it to Asahina herself then. She’d be great.  
Yes, she would, she’d be super sexy playing the Spirit, but forget it. And by the way. Can you do a double cartwheel?_  
Oh hell now I gotta do cartwheels. _Phone me after supper,_ I texted, and turned off my cell.  
All this was in accordance with my plan. Plan A. If Haruhi’s coming after me in dreams this time, then I was gonna fix that. Tonight’s not a school night. If I have to keep her up all night talking on the phone, then fine. And if that doesn’t work, then we resort to Plan B.  
My stomach growled. I went in to supper.

Seems like I’ve been wrapped up in the girl for my entire life.   
It’s been that way ever since I unwisely opened my mouth and turned into her Muse. Or whatever the hell it is I am. That’s almost a year ago now but also an eternity. I may grouch about it, I may complain, but I’ve learned to accept my lot.  
I’ve always taken Haruhi seriously, no matter what Koizumi says. It’s like she’s my job. No, it’s like becoming a Haruhi-distraction and Haruhi-pacifier is my job, plus fixing up things in the event of a Haruhi-rampage. Nobody else can do this job (that part’s stupid, but then _life_ is stupid, so why not?) and I accepted that, too, a long time ago.  
Even a single day can be an eternity, in Haruhi-time.  
When she disappeared, back before Christmas, I realized something else, though. Something vital. Yes, life in the SOS Brigade is stupid and crazy, but I like my life. Go figure. I like it crazy.  
So around Valentine’s Day, I set about forging myself a place in the SOS Brigade.  
And when you’re in the SOS Brigade, our peerless brigade chief is the center of the universe. Surprise! I came to that realization last of all. Probably hasn’t fully sunk in yet. Nagato and Koizumi and Asahina knew it long ago. They knew it was all about her.  
I’ve finally admitted it too.  
So why is she still not satisfied?  
Damn her.

I forewent my usual relaxing soak in the bath, in the interests of staying awake. I made a pot of coffee too. Coffee usually doesn’t keep me from sleeping but tonight I was ready to drink it black. The whole pot if I needed it. Or even two pots. Whatever it took.  
I thought about what Haruhi had texted. She sure was someone who shunned the ordinary as if normal life had chicken pox. No sooner did she spot the commonplace than she resolutely turned her back. That was her. Anybody of two minds about strolling down a primrose path versus slogging through thigh-deep quicksand could take inspiration from Haruhi. She’d charge into the quicksand with a shout of challenge, and the harder the struggle, the more fun she’d have.  
That other thing she’d texted:  
 _If everyone around you pushes you to do something, do the opposite and surprise the world!_  
Funny how that sank into my consciousness. It was a route I could take. It was, in fact, the only and inevitable route. Because if I was right, I was right, and no amount of shoving from Koizumi or Asahina the Elder ... or even Nagato and her alien master ... should make me turn one step from my carefully-thought-out course.  
Haruhi? Did I just learn something from you?  
Wonders never cease.  
And I’d just settled down in my room with a cup of coffee when my sister put her head in the door. “Kyon! Phone!”  
Good. “Is it Haruhi?” I said.  
“It’s a lady. Is one of your teachers calling you? Are you flunking out of school?”  
I swatted at her, and she gave up the handset and ran off giggling. “Kyon’s flunking! Kyon’s flunking! Nyah nyah nyah!”  
A lady?  
I put the phone to my ear. “Yes?”  
“Hello, Kyon. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Asahina the Elder.

Her soft voice was sexy in a way fundamentally different from the sexiness of the younger Asahina. Not sure how—maybe it was a tone of confidence. The result of being older and wiser. Anyway I couldn’t mistake her for her younger self. Maybe she sounded a little graver than usual, this time around.  
I thought about this and finally said, “I never know with time travel. Is this the Asahina who was with me in closed space recently?”  
“It is, Kyon. Say hi to Koizumi for me.”  
“... I’m sorry about what happened to Fujiwara.”  
She was quiet for a few breaths. I had time to imagine her looking down with a solemn expression, maybe biting her lip. Though that might not be what was happening. She said, “It was not avoidable.”  
“Like, a fixed event?”  
“No. But that’s not why I called tonight, Kyon. Let’s talk about you. How are you doing?”  
Not knowing just how to take this, I said, “I dunno.”  
It was an embarrassing question.  
She said, “I thought you might have some questions for me. That you might be feeling confused right now.”  
“Er—”  
She laughed. It was a low croon of a laugh, such that I instinctively pressed the handset closer to my ear. “To put it a different way, I know this is a difficult time for you, but you mustn’t think you’re alone. And I wish I could have come to visit you in your room, instead of just phoning. You know?”  
“Er—”  
“Well, that would have been inadvisable. Far too dangerous. But I’m imagining that I’m there.” She stopped talking, in an inviting way. But I didn’t know what to say, so I held my tongue. After a moment she went on, “Kyon. The time is coming when my younger self can no longer be with you. It’s very soon.”  
At the sound of those words, my chest went tight and my heart started to hammer. The feeling of impending bereavement hit me and made me swallow—it was suddenly hard to think. I guess something in me really doesn’t like people going away.  
“... want you to do something for me,” her lovely voice was saying. Even a little sexier than usual. An irresistible voice. “To please me, Kyon. And it will be good for you. Are you on your bed?”  
“—yes—?”  
“Don’t put down the phone. I’m just going to talk for a bit. You don’t need to answer but you have to promise to listen, Kyon. No—shush. Just listen. You’ll understand later. This is to help you relax all over.”   
She giggled softly over the phone line.  
“I want you to lie back. Get comfortable. I’m picturing you in pajamas, you know. Do you feel comfortable now? Are you warm?”  
Damn right I was warm. I had laid down obediently, because she’d told me to, but this was going in no direction I’d ever expected.  
But. It was her. Nobody alive can resist that voice. Or if they can, they ought to be examined by a team of doctors and certified deaf and/or made of solid stone. Well, the truth is that I didn’t want to stop listening.  
Not even for a moment. In fact if anyone had tried to pry the phone out of my hand, at that point I’d probably have punched them. Though if my little sister came into the room I would be mortally embarrassed. But ... Asahina will be gone soon, back to that future time she came from. She said so. Gone forever, and once she goes, I won’t have the chance to hear her sultry tee-hee anymore.  
And it was also getting hard to think. (There was something I’d forgotten but I couldn’t put my thumb on it.) I laid on my side with the phone to my ear, and listened speechlessly to Asahina.  
“It’s no use fighting what will come,” she said, and her voice in that moment was the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. “It is not avoidable.”

The phone buzzed softly in my ear, the line still open but nothing on the other end. I was lying on my back now, sprawled out, in the mostly dark bedroom, and a half-dazed glance at my bedside clock told me it was far too late. 12:22 AM.  
I felt pliant all over, my arms and legs too relaxed to move; you could have lifted them, changed my position, and I would have purred like my cat Shamisen having his belly rubbed. For me, a strange and disorienting feeling. Anybody could have done anything with me.  
The quality of the light changed, becoming grey and stormy.  
Closed space.  
Oh yes, I suddenly realized, I’d left my cell phone turned off, and nobody had hung up the land-line. No matter how many times Haruhi had tried to phone me, she wouldn’t have been able to complete the call.  
And here she was.  
She hadn’t come in through the doorway, she was simply present, her shadow lying over me. Luminous blue filled the window, shining through the glass, and it backlit her. The whole room shone blue. She didn’t speak. It didn’t matter; this time I knew it was her. Just one step away from my bed.  
She took that step.  
I sat up and screamed at her.  
“Get out get out get out _get out GET OUT!!_ ”  
The closed space shattered. She vanished. The room went dark.  
I ended up half off my bed, hyperventilating, with every light in the house suddenly on and my mom and sister rushing in through the doorway.

But what’s this feeling that chokes my chest, keeping me gasping long after I should have recovered? I did what I planned. Plan B. It worked. But this feels like shame. As if I’ve done something bad to her.  
Then I realized.  
I did something very bad, that you shouldn’t do to someone you like.  
Set aside the other thing I apparently feel— that she makes me want to throw myself out of a window and die. That’s private, nobody’s business but my own, and I don’t intend to ever tell Haruhi about it. No, I’m keeping it to myself for the world’s sake. That’s definite. What I was feeling now was completely different, and more important.   
I like her.  
I _like_ Haruhi.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I knew this would happen. I _knew_ it.

The next morning.  
I felt fairly groggy, although I had slept. A recurring nightmare of being pinned—one I’d had several times last summer—had alternated with a newer but no less intense nightmare. Something about falling under a train? The brain processes memory during sleep, but does not make new memories; that’s why dreams fade so easily, and that morning by breakfast most of the details had indeed (thankfully) faded. My mother had also been upset at the way I’d woken the household yelling, and she’d wanted to take me to the hospital—it had been difficult to convince her I was okay. I hope she doesn’t want me to see a psychiatrist.  
Seventeen text messages from Haruhi on my cell-phone. Why am I not surprised?  
So when I arrived at the clubroom, it was with a distinct sense of being sub-par. Nor was I alone. Koizumi especially wore an exhausted smile.  
What I hadn’t anticipated was not being able to look Haruhi in the face.  
Irrational guilt. It’s sad, considering all I’d done was save the world. She should thank me. But if it starts getting harder to deceive her now, then things will become far more difficult down the line. Since I don’t foresee ever being able to tell her the truth.  
But looking away from her only meant my gaze instantly hit on Asahina’s innocent face, and crap, now my cheeks were really burning. Even my ears had gone hot. I couldn’t look at her either. Probably won’t ever be able to look at Asahina again. So I turned away real quick toward Nagato, only to find Nagato staring straight at me, her eyes as clear and cold as glacial ice.  
As if she knew everything. Et tu, Nagato? I felt like an amoeba on a microscope slide. I had to turn away from Nagato too. Which brought me right back to Haruhi.  
She had circles under her eyes, a savage smile on her mouth. “You look like garbage,” she said.  
Gee, thanks.  
“And don’t give me that sad-puppy act. I phoned everyone in our class last night, trying to find out what was up with you. Because all I got from your number was buzz buzz buzz all night long. Stupid Kyon! I even tried Tsuruya. Even Sakanaka, though that was a longshot. And then finally Koizumi called and filled me in.” She stopped short, hands on hips, then sighed and smiled. A real smile, this time. “But the upside is that I got all my rewrites finished. So everyone, throw away yesterday’s scripts and prepare to be wowed!”  
She started handing out fresh copies of her playlet.  
“I told her I phoned you and kept you on the line all evening,” Koizumi said quietly. “Talking about romantic troubles.”  
If he was making up imaginary girlfriends, he’d better be careful. Because with the mood she was in, Haruhi would order him to produce her for inspection.  
“I doubt that will be a problem.”  
Yeah, he can have an imaginary break-up before then.  
I briefly imagined him dating Emiri Kimidori.  
Never mind that. The closed space situation? I asked.  
“As you probably know.” He leaned closer. “We were occupied with repeat events of the ... ordinary kind of closed space all evening—Suzumiya was evidently under considerable stress—but it stopped dead after midnight. I presume I can convey the thanks of the Agency? Ah, their heartfelt thanks. Once again you’ve dealt with the situation as no one else could. We’ve had a splendid sunrise and wonderful clear skies this morning, didn’t we?”  
“Uh,” I said, taken aback.  
“Though given her current moodiness ...”  
Yeah ...  
He’d been studying Asahina, but that brought his attention right back to me. “What’s that?” But it’s not his business what I think. He waited for me to answer, but I shut my mouth and he eventually shrugged and gave up.  
But. He’d been studying Asahina. With his chin on his interlaced fingers, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. I didn’t like it. Wait, hadn’t he been staring at Nagato, in almost the same posture, back at the start of the school year? Only the feeling I got from his expression today had seemed different. The time-travelling pride of the SOS Brigade came hurrying over with the teapot—“Earl Grey? It’s caffeinated. To give you energy, you both look so tired,”—and he bowed his head to her as if in thanks.  
She faltered. “E-ee, you’re looking at me funny—what did I do—?” and almost spilt tea on my arm.  
It occurred to me that all of us were wearing masks. Forget about acting out parts for Haruhi’s play—this was how the SOS Brigade lived. None of us had chosen our roles, but we had to play them anyway to the best of our ability. Even Haruhi, though she didn’t know that her ordinary-high-school-girl mask was the biggest lie of all.  
We started working. Scene one. Haruhi hadn’t fiddled much with it, just added stage directions; the dialogue was completely unchanged. After skimming quickly through their parts and confirming this, both Koizumi and Asahina sailed right in and delivered their lines, barely consulting the script. Word-perfect, overnight. I felt like kicking the wall. When did Koizumi, especially, have time to memorize this stuff? Crap. I’m doomed.  
But they really were good, and Haruhi too.  
I perched on Nagato’s chair in the corner, and watched them. Yeah, Haruhi was definitely letting herself be distracted, relaxing into her part, visibly enjoying reading aloud the lines she’d written. Though she gave some of her dialogue a nasty bite. But it suited her part in scene one—the angry prince, incognito and in search of adventure, making speeches about his distrust of romance. His opinion that love wasn’t important, his wish to pursue loftier, truer goals. Like world conquest, I guess. The prince’s talking horse (Koizumi) chided him and offered enough advice to, well, choke a horse. Would a talking horse really be able to come up with reliable advice on human courtship? I don’t think so. Princess Beauty, hands clasped over her heart, delivered a moving speech about how little birds perish, pierced on the thorns of love. It sounded like Asahina was really putting her soul into it. Blah blah blah.  
“Stop making snide remarks, Kyon. Koizumi still gets the narrator’s part, no matter what you think.”  
Don’t get me wrong. Scene one was my favorite. Because I wasn’t in it, so all I had to do was relax and enjoy the show.  
Scene two. The magical talking horse did a mock Greek-chorus recap, and a little dance with Nagato. “You’ll be in your horse costume,” Haruhi said. “She’ll be the wall of thorns. Think pratfalls. Hijinks. Neighing. The audience will split their sides laughing!”  
I came onstage. Today I was draped in a sheet—it was Nagato’s sheet from yesterday, holes cut in it for my eyes. The mysterious Spirit. Only I knew the words of power that would transform the wall of thorns into a drift of snow. Well, that’s all very pretty, but—paging forward—I also do cartwheels? Double cartwheels. In a bedsheet? Good grief.  
Just to get it on the record, I’m pretty good at cartwheels. I always have been. Just not in a bedsheet.  
“Okay, let’s see one. Put up or shut up. Yeah, you can take off the sheet first—spoilsport.”  
And hey. This script is actually okay. It’s not wall-to-wall chaos like that so-called movie last year, it has a plot. The love speeches are still soppy, but as she said, they’re what’s suited to this type of narrative. Prince Uncharming’s characterization leans toward the tough and ambitious, and he always knows what he wants; he’s not girly in any way.  
“Kyon! Quit spacing out! We’re all waiting on you—and don’t tell me you’re on the wrong page again?! Get your mind on the job!”  
Haruhi’s been creating stuff all year, now that I think of it. Drawing game boards and cartoon faces. Whipping up costumes like the papier-mache horsehead Koizumi’s wearing. The movie was overambitious and the trailer sequel was as much a mess as the original Adventures of Mikuru Asahina, but writing down a script instead of just running wild at blind random seems to have turned on her inspiration.  
Harnessed it?  
Whatever.  
I wonder if that university has an arts program. Well, we still have the flyer. I’ll check later.  
“Kyonnnn! Back straight, face forward, eye contact! Not like that! Look at me when I’m declaiming, okay?”  
It was official. I sucked.  
Scene three.  
“This is where we started running into real trouble,” Haruhi said, stabbing the page with her forefinger. “So we’re gonna take five and have a bite. It’s about lunchtime already anyway. I made sandwiches for everybody. Mikuru, where’s my tea? Why’s this cup empty? I’m parched.”  
Mikuru’s tea was every bit up to standard. Also, Haruhi had made backdrop sketches, and we ended up looking over them while munching down tons of food.  
“Scrumptious as always, Suzumiya-sensei. And I notice you incorporated my ad-libs from yesterday into today’s script—quite a compliment.”  
“Er, er, and these pickles, they’re so delightful, where did you find them? I’d l-like to buy some too—”  
“...”  
Nagato maintained her usual no-comment policy, but her nonstop consumption of sandwiches might have been meant to send a message.  
But all the while I felt a strange chill that made the hair rise on the backs of my hands. The others talked more loudly than usual—well, Asahina and Koizumi did—but with pauses at the wrong times, it seemed. As though something was missing. Perhaps the mustard, except it wasn’t. They were excellent sandwiches.  
Eventually Haruhi stood up. She grabbed my arm as she did, yanking me up with her. “Okay, gather round. I’ve decided to make some changes. Koizumi and Mikuru, you both deliver your soliloquies at the start of the scene and then scoot offstage. You’ll do a quick-change into costumes matching Yuki’s. We’ll change the backdrop a little too, so the sleeping princess appears in shadow silhouette behind a curtain. See, Mikuru? That frees you up. You and Koizumi and Yuki will all play wall of thorns. I’ll show you your marks. Kyon, stand here.”  
She towed me over bodily, then directed the others. Once she’d finished placing them on their marks, I found myself surrounded. Koizumi was on my left, Asahina on my right—close enough to touch elbows. The clubroom being small, I had my back against the whiteboard. Nagato stood directly in front of me, between me and Haruhi.  
“Stay like that for now,” Haruhi said. “I’ll move you when you gotta move. Kyon, I don’t want to hear any smart remarks about claustrophobia. And listen.” She jabbed me in the shoulder with her pointy forefinger. Jab, jab, jab. “You barely tried yesterday, so do better today. Because tomorrow we rehearse without scripts, and you’ll have to have your lines by heart. Got that?”  
Trapped, I had no choice except to stand there and obediently read my part, worrying all the time about memorizing everything by tomorrow.  
Maybe I shouldn’t be worrying. What did it matter if I didn’t learn the lines Haruhi had written? And yet something within me wanted her approval. Though approval from Haruhi was like bribe offers from the Agency—surely best skipped entirely?  
I tried to do a good job. Haruhi, of course, delivered her dialogue with extra expression, pacing back and forth. “—no more living with eyes shut. No turning away in scorn, no lying to myself.”  
“The whole year spent striving,” I read, “but we’re still nowhere. Why?”  
“There’s nothing between us,” Haruhi said bitterly.  
Well, apparently there’s this wall of thorns between us.  
She almost snickered, but went on. “Yet I don’t regret anything I’ve done—”  
You’ve changed all the dialogue overnight?  
“Yep. Concentrate. You’re still fairly hopeless.” Switching back into character: “I don’t regret anything I’ve done. And what use regretting something I haven’t done? How pointless is that?”  
We went on lobbing the verbal ball, but she was frowning more and more now. Pacing while she read her lines, with an air of a baffled Serengeti lioness. “You’re still not getting it, Kyon. Barely better than yesterday. Gimme eye contact. Emote!”  
She firmed her lips and seemed to come to a decision.  
Then without warning she stopped right in front of Nagato, about a metre away from me. “Yuki? Shift over.” She hauled me forward, her grip tight and possessive. “Here’s where you venture past the thicket of thorns, Kyon. Now just follow my lead. Yuki, take our scripts, we need our hands free.”  
She took hold of my chin and made me tilt my head toward her. “Look me in the eye like you were the other day. No, don’t look for a script, Yuki will prompt you with your lines. I have the majority of the dialogue from here on, you just have to react to what I say. Lean forward more. Now rest your hands on my shoulders. Go ahead, do it. Relax.” She still had me by the chin. Her other hand gripped my shirtfront. “This isn’t a love scene or anything dumb, but we need to have chemistry. So don’t you dare look away, or penalty! I haven’t made a final decision on your costume, you know. I can still put you in a dress.”  
She’d backed me up against the others, so now I was really surrounded. Goodbye, personal space. Nice to have known you.  
We were maybe four centimetres apart, Haruhi and me. That’s how it is when we argue, or to be more precise when she blows up without cause, jumps me and we wrestle like kids in daycare. One time she tried to throw me out of a window, didn’t she? Nagato, very close for some reason—in fact, almost standing on my foot—whispered my dialogue and I repeated it after her. Haruhi delivered her lines without resort to a script. The eye contact made me feel weird. The expression on Haruhi’s face was weirder. She’d got very red.  
“You’re in my reach now.”  
“No, keep away—don’t get so close, it’s dangerous—”  
“You can’t keep me out!”  
“Let go of me!”  
Nagato was practically wedged between us now, her blank face upturned. Haruhi hissed, “Work with me,” grabbed my face and angled it downwards. Both hands on my face. Our noses were virtually Eskimo-kissing. I mean, I could count eyelashes.  
One time she’d tripped me, jumped astride me and got both hands inside my blazer, trying to rip it open.  
I felt like Asahina getting sexually harassed. I mean, this didn’t feel daycare-ish anymore.  
Haruhi’s expression suddenly changed. She’d noticed me noticing her.  
Holy _shit._  
I yanked myself loose fast. I think I knocked Asahina over. Haruhi yelled, a wordless combative shout, and came after me. She really sounded like a four-year-old whose toy had been pulled away.  
Everyone was moving now. I heard Asahina wailing. Somehow, Koizumi’s foot hit my ankle, and I went over backward, hitting the floor with my butt. Haruhi landed on me and I grabbed her to break her fall.  
She wore a maniacal grin.  
Things got confusing. I mean, I tried afterward to reconstruct the exact course of events, attempting to explain the sore spots on my temple and cheekbone. She apparently has a harder skull than normal girls do.  
When she let out a shriek like a demon, I was almost deafened.  
Fighting does no good when Shamisen jumps my feet through the covers in the middle of the night, and this seemed like that, so I stopped fighting. I made myself go limp instead. Ice cubes. Think of ice cubes. I thought of ice cubes. And asked loudly, “Are we still acting?”  
She rolled off me, hand pressed to her mouth. “Yes!” She socked me hard, fist to the ribs where she’d hit me yesterday. “That’s for what you just did,” she said thickly, and kicked me one for good measure. Ow.  
The door slammed behind her.  
The end of scene three, forsooth. Where Prince Uncharming makes his fatal mistake, lunges into the thicket of thorns and gets spiked. I sat there feeling conspicuous and achy, and became aware that Koizumi, Asahina, and Nagato were looking at me with a) disapproval, b) disappointment, and c) her usual lack of expression.  
Koizumi drew breath as if to speak, but then his phone buzzed and he said, “I think you know what that is,” and tore out of the room in Haruhi’s wake.  
I knew this would happen. I knew it.  
At this rate, I won’t survive scene four.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of my incisors felt loose. Her fault. We’d bonked teeth. Kisses are not meant to be like that.

I lay on the shabby, weed-filled lawn outside the old club building, staring into the sky.  
I’d talked with Haruhi here right after the cultural festival, I seemed to remember; something about that day had engraved itself on my mind. A rare peaceful conversation with Haruhi. How long had it lasted, approximately 2.16 minutes? Certainly no longer. I’d known her for six months by then, had a fairly good idea of what she was capable of, and consequently spent a lot of time wanting to run away screaming.   
However. When did I start reckoning the passage of time by the way I felt about Haruhi? Like the events in our acquaintance were landmarks or something. I’m probably an idiot.  
One of my incisors felt loose. Her fault. We’d bonked teeth. Kisses are not meant to be like that.  
I’m not sorry that I bit her tongue.  
And yet I can’t help remembering those few peaceful moments we shared after the cultural festival. Also, right in the middle of my last jaunt through time, I’d seen her wear a smile like peace incarnate, a smile like the restful moon. I’d been granted the boon of seeing an older Haruhi too, a Haruhi the Elder emanating rare calm and grace. A sight not to be forgotten. Though those glimpses of her have apparently turned my head, leaving me brain-addled and landing me in this current mess.  
Too bad the current version of Haruhi has the impulse control of Mount Vesuvius.  
I gazed up at the flawless sunny sky, and wondered. It was a day worth basking in, not a cloud up there, with a perfect balance of warm sun and playful refreshing breeze. Weather like the blessing of an affectionate god. Why did I have an itch as if thunderstorms and driving rain would have been more appropriate?  
Well, I’m not giving in. Let her think I’m weak, even for just one second, and I’ll be her chewtoy forever. Dragged around like a ragdoll, forcibly dressed in costumes for all I know ... look how she is with Asahina. She absolutely despises people who knuckle under too easily to her tyranny. I’m definitely not doing that. Count on it.  
I have known that from almost the start.  
I was somehow waiting for Haruhi to arrive, but the ones who showed up were Koizumi, Nagato and Asahina.  
They had an air of marching into battle. A distinctly grim mien. Koizumi, cell phone gripped in one hand, loomed over me like a stranger. In fact all three of them managed to loom, though Asahina looked frightened instead of stern. That’s just as well because a stern Asahina would totally panic me.  
Koizumi broke the tense silence. “Suzumiya went to classroom 2-5.” A glance at his cell. “She hasn’t come out. Go talk to her.”  
Won’t.  
“Ah, did I speak as if I was giving orders? I was only overtaken by stress and lack of sleep, I suppose. It’s natural to feel irritable under these conditions. Sleeplessness especially affects the temper. Don’t you agree?”  
I heaved up on my elbows. “Go away. Why aren’t you in closed space, chasing Celestials?”  
“I’ve been barred from fighting Celestials for now.”  
 _What?_ But he loved fighting in closed space.   
That smile. It’s the one he plasters on when Armageddon seems imminent. I’d seen it most recently yesterday morning when he and Nagato were waiting outside my house. He said, “My superiors have given me new orders. I’m directed to use my full energy ...” A sizeable pause. “... and whatever means necessary ... to somehow detach you from Nagato’s ... influence.”  
Again, _what?_  
But.   
Nagato swivelled like a plastic action figure. She pinned a thousand-yard-stare on Koizumi. “The Data Overmind is aware of your orders, Itsuki Koizumi. All your orders, including the ones you have not mentioned. You will not stand between us and the possibility of auto-evolution.”  
Asahina jittered, hands fluttering uselessly. “N-no, Nagato, calm down, don’t talk like that, it’s not, I mean—we have to get along, that’s what I mean—”  
This was bad.  
I interrupted Asahina’s flailing. “Koizumi. Are they, I mean the Agency, going to try to remove Nagato? Assassinate her or something?”  
“I doubt it’s possible to assassinate a data being like Nagato,” Koizumi said plainly. “Destroy her interface, and she would only download a backup copy and reappear. Isn’t that so, Nagato? Nor would the Agency risk open hostilities with the Data Overmind. But I would have to try to poison your mind against Nagato. Slander her however I could. There are other means that could be used. And other espers who will be given the same orders. Espers different from me.” Like the espers whose existence he’d once hinted at, their powers unlike his—mind-altering powers, maybe? Koizumi drew a deep breath. “Given these circumstances.”  
Nagato stated, “I will not let you tamper with his mind. Nor with Haruhi Suzumiya’s mind.”  
I looked at Asahina; she seemed on the verge of dissolving in a total panic.  
This was _really_ bad.  
“If you two go nuclear on each other, Haruhi’s bound to notice. So stop,” I ordered. “Nagato, back off. Koizumi, there’s gotta be something you can say to the other espers, some way you can—”  
“I doubt it. What could there be? We have no other choices. In these circumstances.”  
“Koizumi! Stop it. Just ... stop. What are you going to do?”  
“This is what I’m doing,” Koizumi said. “I’m telling you and Nagato what my orders are.” Sounding like he was about to faint on the spot. He sat down beside me and met my gaze. “I believe it’s the right course of action.”  
Well, I was astonished.  
I fell instantly into deep thought.   
Things were grim now, that was for sure. But I couldn’t help feeling that as long as the SOS Brigade stood together—and we were standing together, that was also 120% for sure—nothing could ever defeat us, no matter how dire. Koizumi was with us. Nagato, whole and healthy, was a force to be reckoned with. Asahina the Younger had Asahina the Elder as her backup. The four of us, united, could certainly handle Haruhi. It was our job, wasn’t it?—after all.  
But outsiders could interfere with us and keep us from doing our job. This thing with Koizumi—I was starting to feel as if the Agency was as big a bunch of jerks as Nagato’s boss and Asahina’s controllers. Koizumi’s dedicated to fighting Haruhi’s demons in closed space. He’s good at it too, from all I could gather, and they need all the help they could get. It’s not as if they have that many espers that they can throw one away. Most of all, he revels in it. Koizumi the esper superhero. He loves being an esper.  
They were probably messing with him now to put the thumbscrews on me. That’s if his whole story isn’t just a pack of lies.  
It could be all lies. There was no way to tell, was there? But if he was telling the truth—  
Damn, now I’m feeling guilty or something.  
But what to do, what to do ...  
I blinked and glanced around. How long had I been lost in calculation? The other three were looking expectantly at me.  
I opened my mouth, and then shut it.  
Haruhi had just come out of the club building and was striding toward us.  
I stood up. Koizumi scrambled up too, and before I knew what was what, he had patted me on the shoulder and done a quick fade over the horizon, Asahina with him—how’d they done it so fast? As for Nagato, she’d vanished even faster. Poof, she was gone. As if she’d never even been there. Just like that, the two of us were facing each other: Haruhi and I.  
Haruhi spoke.  
“This is what I think.”  
I was ready to listen.  
“We’re healthy young adults, right? We have urges. But the SOS Brigade has standards to upkeep. This play is key to the Brigade’s forward progress, and I’m not gonna let anything disrupt rehearsals. Also, don’t forget I need to tutor you. I’m not letting you go all weird and distracted and ruin your future, not when my hard work is finally getting you places. So. We have self-control and we’re gonna use it. Got that, Kyon? Even if you’re going through some kind of bizarre delayed maturation and it’s paralyzed your brain, we will set it aside until a suitable time. It’s the adult thing to do. Okay?”  
... Setting my brain aside until a suitable time is the adult thing to do?  
But this was better than having to give the humble apology I’d been readying, so I was willing to agree.  
I steeled myself and got out the biggest whopper of my entire Haruhi-management career: “I, uh, reacted inappropriately.”  
“Damn right you did.” She had her hand over her mouth again. “And if you ever bite me again, I’ll—”  
Yeah?  
“Bite back harder,” said Haruhi. “C’mon, I bet the others are waiting on us in the clubroom. We got lots to do. All of scene four’s waiting.” She grabbed my arm and marched me along.  
Her smile switched on. Ten thousand volts.  
“And you’re going to learn your lines tonight or die trying. Because when I was on the phone with Tsuruya and the other girls, I invited them to watch our rehearsal tomorrow. It’s important that we get used to acting in front of an audience. And afterward—” Her face shone with the full force of Brigade-chief craftiness. “—I’ll to draft them to help us make the sets and costumes. My play is gonna be awesome!”

 

End of part one.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot twists! As does the spacetime continuum, alas.

Well, we got through scene four with me in one piece, though the why’s a mystery. It helped that Haruhi sailed through it, beginning to end, from the first line to the final kiss, in a froth of riotous high spirits. The sun shining through the window at us, Asahina giggling with relief, the whole nine yards—I was ready to check cherry trees all over the city to see if they’d burst out in extra bloom.  
About that final kiss in scene four. Haruhi waking Asahina, Prince Charming’s kiss. It was only mimed, delivered in silhouette behind a sheet: a shadow kiss. As with the bondage nightgown, a scaled-back version. Haruhi was evidently reconsidering her original borderline-offensive artistic conception, maybe because she’d remembered there’d be an audience. To do her justice, she usually does restrain herself when adults are present ... well, unless they’re teachers; when they’re teachers she just rolls her eyes and goes right on offending. But with strange adults, she can be polite.  
By the way, I’d like it made clear that I don’t mind being kissed, myself. That kiss with Haruhi last year was excellent. Pretty sure I’ll like more if any girl ever offers me a come-on. But lines have to be drawn, and my line includes being given advance warning, not to mention not being tackled and held down by force, okay?  
Okay, Haruhi?  
Moving on. I wanted a word with Koizumi and Nagato, but there was no opportunity. I did watch them both, worried. Nagato looked perfectly normal, though, and Koizumi’s smile never wavered. A good thing he’s had so much practice maintaining his role. But screw it, this was another item on my ever-lengthening task-list.  
1\. Buy the anniversary gift for Haruhi, but what exactly? Still no clue.  
2\. Attend to the fixed event.  
3\. Keep Nagato from terminating the entire Agency. And figure out what to do about Koizumi. Since if he’s been benched, it’s my fault, isn’t it?  
But wait, I can combine items two and three.  
Still, no ... arghh. No. That means explaining to Koizumi about how I have to time-travel, and why, and (the embarrassing part) my destination. And Asahina; she’ll have to be briefed as well. I can just imagine it. Asahina clapping both hands to her mouth and giggling like a little girl. Koizumi’s smirk getting wider and wider, as he questions me on the exact details. But ... how do I phrase this? How can I possibly say it? Haruhi’s bed with Haruhi in it, middle of the night. “Materialize me about five centimetres directly above her and let me go.”  
No, there’s no way to come out and say it.  
I know, I’ll write it down and just hand them the paper. Then I can leave the room while they read it. Or should I text them? I could text Nagato and ask her to forward everything to Koizumi and Asahina.  
I could just flee the country too.  
But. If I tell Koizumi about the fixed event—Haruhi’s bedroom, the anniversary, the gift chosen and delivered by me—just weeks away, he can report it to the Agency and make them all so happy they’ll get off his back forever. So logically, I ought to do it. Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after. Somebody give me a reason to delay. A week from Monday—won’t that still leave enough time?  
No, I have to. But I don’t want to. But.  
I was grinding my teeth over it, but things turned out fine. Since I didn’t get the opportunity for any kind of private chat with anyone, not that day. Haruhi didn’t leave me alone even for a second. We rehearsed all afternoon. During tea breaks she kept me right with her. When we went back to rehearsal, she dragged me around by the wrist the whole time, her smile huge. She plonked me down on my marks and physically moved me from place to place. Throughout, she made me look her in the eye and adjust my body language to her (exacting) specifications.  
The constant eye contact with her made me nervous, but she was implacable.   
Control’s her thing. You could call it her avocation. I have seldom seen her so happy.  
Maybe her gift ought to be a life-sized second-year-student doll. Jointed, so she can pose it. We could dress it in a North High uniform.  
Koizumi gave me a few significant looks, but he didn’t object to what Haruhi was doing. Of course not, that would be breaking character.  
“That’s it,” Haruhi said finally, jotting a final note in her script. “The end! Well done, everyone. Kyon, I gotta give it to you for trying. A couple more run-throughs and you’ll have it. And Mikuru! You were stellar. After we put this on for real, talent scouts and film producers will be lining up at your door! I guarantee it.”  
She’s delusional. Well, if she’s happy in her delusions then I’m not going to protest, but I had to wonder what drug she was on. We could sell it on the streets and make a fortune, or else I could keep it all for myself.  
“Let’s go,” she said, latching onto my arm.  
Were we eating out somewhere ... ? Yes, as it happened. Any hazy plans I had of shopping for her gift on my way home were squashed, since we all ended up at a cafe together. Dinner SOS Brigade style. “But don’t think you’re getting off easy,” she said, poking my shoulder. “Extra rehearsals for you tomorrow morning, got that? _Remedial_ rehearsals. Yeah, you’re okay, but you should be word-perfect by now—why, Mikuru’s way better than you.”  
“I don’t have as much dialogue,” Asahina said quickly. “Not even half as much as Kyon!”  
“Oh, come on.” Haruhi sniffed. “Koizumi memorized all his narration just like that. Lengthy stuff. But Kyon? Do you think you can get away with phoning it in? Huh?”  
Her expression suddenly changed. She tilted her head, her face distracted somehow. She’d lost her customary grin. A complex look, not exactly angry, but more reflective, introspective ... confused? She said, “Phones.”  
“What’s with you?” I asked.  
She shook her head. “I dunno, I was only reminded of something ... Yesterday night, a nightmare. I just remembered. Something about phones. The ... wrong phone call.” Another headshake. “I was so _mad_ about it. But I forget why.”  
Asahina’s face had gone blank.  
I said it was probably because she hadn’t been able to get through to me all evening.  
“My fault, I know,” said Koizumi with easy apology. “Shall we levy a penalty on me?”  
“No, it was nothing like that. A total stranger on the phone. Oh, I dunno. I guess it doesn’t matter.” She shrugged it off and went back to haranguing me: “So, penalty! Penalty!”  
“What? What for?”  
“For not being word-perfect yet. You’re going to get it down pat by tomorrow afternoon, got that? Even if I have to go home with you and make you study all evening.”  
At this rate I’d never get away from her.  
I finally excused myself to use the bathroom and, once there, checked my phone. And promptly got a text from Koizumi: _Do you have any idea what she meant about yesterday night?_  
How the hell would I know what Haruhi means?  
I texted that back to him.  
Next thing a text arrived from, of all the people, Asahina. That was a surprise, because she fears and hates phones—she barely ever uses hers, I don’t even know why she owns one. Nagato doesn’t own a cell, but since she can take mine over and write me direct, in her case it doesn’t matter. Asahina’s text, though ... when I hit open, all I found inside was a great big blank. Was this the phone version of _classified information_? Mysterious. Had she been interrupted before she could write anything?  
Yes, she had. Another text hit me straight off: _KYON!!! is it you that Mikuru’s texting under the table get out here RIGHT NOW_ from guess who.  
I went back out. Asahina was completely red as she sat huddled in the corner of the booth, Nagato in the next seat staring wordlessly at her; meanwhile, Haruhi was drumming her fingers on the tabletop. Koizumi, to my surprise, was paying our bill. Haruhi said, “Did you fall asleep in there or something?”  
I did not, I said stiffly. Also, texting me in the bathroom is gross.  
Haruhi stuck her tongue out. She didn’t pursue the subject, though, just lapsed back into perplexed mode. “I can’t get that nightmare out of my mind. I wonder why?” Finally she stood, grabbing my wrist as she did. “Let’s go, Kyon,” she said. “The rest of you, eleven sharp at Tsuruya’s house tomorrow morning. See you!”  
A good thing she wasn’t looking at Asahina right then, because Asahina seemed on the verge of bursting into tears. Nagato and Koizumi quietly closed ranks, getting in front of her and blocking Haruhi’s view. I stopped short, but an instant later Haruhi yanked me onward, and I didn’t even get a chance to look back. What had just happened?

 

“Where are we going, Haruhi?”  
She’d regained her usual blinding smile. She linked her arm through mine. “Shopping!”  
Well. Extra rehearsals weren’t on the schedule after all? But when I asked, she just shrugged and grinned.  
So we went shopping. Or rather, she went shopping and I was along for the drag. We didn’t talk much. Just, “Buy this, Kyon,” and, “This too, Kyon,” whenever her eye hit on something she liked. Nothing too expensive, for which I was sincerely thankful ... it also explained why she hadn’t made me pay at the cafe. That would have wiped me out, leaving no funds for this outing. Still, I was soon festooned with small, fancy bags, while Haruhi smiled and pulled me along, her shining face always turned toward the next shop to be conquered. It was Saturday night, after all—what could be more natural? And it seemed like she’d decided to behave like a normal girl out on a weekend evening.  
Yeah, we were the image of two friends having a good time.  
It was like the prolonged eye contact from earlier: I wasn’t used to it, it made me nervous. No--it made me suspicious. She showed no sign of that strange introspective mood from dinnertime. But I’d been doing some pondering myself. “Hey, Haruhi. Can I ask a personal question?”  
“Depends. If it’s disgusting, I may slug you.”  
We’d made a near-complete circle of the shopping district by then, and were close to where we’d started.  
“No, it’s just offhand,” I said. “At least, I don’t think it’s particularly disgusting.”  
“Yeah? Okay, fire ahead.”  
“No slugging,” I warned. “It’s just, well. About what time do you go to bed? I mean as a habit. And do you have nightmares a lot?”  
Her eyebrows went up. “Huh, why? Do you?”  
“I don’t remember my dreams.” Though I think I dream most nights. “When I sleep, I sleep.”  
“I bet you go to bed at eight sharp. Huh. I usually turn in around midnight. Takes me a while to turn my brain off enough to get to sleep.” She looked away for some reason. “I have a whole routine. You, I bet you just fall face-forward onto your pillow and wham, you’re gone.”  
I didn’t dignify that with a response. “I’ve had a few nightmares recently, but that’s not usual for me.”  
“I wonder why. Sometimes I wish I could manage to sleep as easily as you. But then, sleep’s a creepy state anyway. Like temporary death. When I think how many hours we sleep every night—lying there in a coma, right?—it makes my skin crawl. The tragic waste of time.” We walked along. “When I can’t get my brain turned off properly,” she said, “I have all kinds of nightmares, maybe three, four a night. I wish I got the alien-abduction kind or maybe ghosts, but no. Mostly the never-getting-anywhere kind.”  
Running and running and never getting anywhere. I’ve had those.  
“Not _running_ , in my case. Oh, I don’t want to talk about it.” Haruhi brightened. “Look at that.” A jewelry shop, with a Grand Opening Sale banner strung across its facade, and a swarm of girls milling around inside. “Someplace new! What are you waiting for? C’mon!”  
She hauled me in. I wasn’t protesting much, even though the place was crowded. It had occurred to me that while she looked at belts and scarf-pins, I could be unobtrusively browsing for a gift. If I spotted anything likely, I could sneak back later. Girls like jewelry, don’t they? Haruhi doesn’t usually wear any, but maybe a modest necklace ...  
Although a huge gaudy trophy would be more her speed.  
Next instant I was reeling from repeated whacks on the back, while a jovial voice exclaimed, “Lookit, lookit! What’s in those pretty bags, Kyon-kun? Anything for me?”  
Tsuruya. And not just Tsuruya, but a whole bunch of girls from North High. Second- and third-years both, including several from 2-5. Worse, all of them seemed to be staring in open, blatant interest. I mean, you’d have thought I had two heads, the way they goggled. Upperclassmen girls I’d never even been introduced to were giggling behind their hands. I felt like diving for cover behind the nearest counter.  
“Well, I’ll keep your secret, but I never thought I’d see this day.” Tsuruya leered cheerfully and went on keeping our ‘secret’ in tones loud enough to rattle the ceiling. “Haru-nyan, you’re gonna start rumors! Are congratulations in order? Huh?”  
No way was I smooth enough to come up with an answer to that. Just when I was on the verge of blurting out ten different panicky denials—  
Haruhi put her hands on her hips. “ _No_ ,” she said. “Kyon’s just along to keep moronic frat types from hitting on me.”  
I was overcome with admiration for her social acumen. First time ever.  
Astonishing.  
Tsuruya was applauding. “Good deed, Kyon,” she exclaimed. “I’ve shopped with her, y’know. She’s dead right. University boys come in droves. It makes her cross.”  
She gave me one last whack and let me go.  
It was gonna be all right—no scenes. I relaxed. Haruhi and Tsuruya were soon exclaiming over some displays of earrings. The crowd of girls went back to their shopping. Thankfully, no boys from North High were in evidence. I don’t know if I could have held up my head if a guy I knew saw me.  
I drifted into an inconspicuous corner and slumped there, feeling as if I’d been saved from a spectacular and embarrassing doom.  
But was that why Haruhi had dragged me along tonight? A girl with (I admit it) her looks, out alone on a Saturday night ... alright, no boy who knew Haruhi would willingly hit on her, but I guess the world’s male population is not limited to the subset of (boys (who attended school with Haruhi Suzumiya) (and/or who have been informed of her infamy)). So theoretically, a total stranger might see her and decide to try his luck. I didn’t know what I thought about that. I mean, if that was so then I pitied the guy, that was a given, but—  
Do I have to worry about her now? Fret the way I might over Asahina, in the same case? No, in Haruhi’s case it’s worse, because I know damn well she’s a girl who never turns down an offer—Taniguchi warned me about that, oh, over a year ago—so has she been dating on the sly all this time, leading a double life, and if so, where the heck does she find the time?? It’s a mystery. No, no, I’m veering off-topic. The important question was: which was worse? Haruhi saying yes, dating university boys. Haruhi saying no, kneeing poor innocent hopefuls in the groin. Since she is no helpless Asahina.  
I wrenched my mind forcibly from its train of thought, distracting myself with worries over Asahina. What had been up with Asahina, back at the cafe? Was it some time-traveler issue sure to cause total disaster? Was the turbulent river of our lives on the verge of plunging into a space-time continuum-related chasm?  
But what was this? I paused, looking down.  
The display that had caught my eye was one of charm bracelets—silver chains, nothing jazzy, and a tray of charms—but look there: a charm shaped like an hourglass, and another like an open book. Nagato is not an open book, but a book would nevertheless work. I eyed the charms cautiously. Yes, there was one that would do for Koizumi too. Yeah. Maybe I’d just hit the bonus screen? Plus 10,000 points.  
Then I thought to check my phone.  
What the ... ?  
Three texts from Asahina.  
Unprecedented.  
 _Kyon I need to talk with you_ was the gist of all three.  
They were phrased with an escalating urgency that came through clearly—a very Asahina-like sense of distress, the more poignant for being signed off with smileys. Also pathetically Asahina-like. What had put her in such a flap?  
But I was on Haruhi duty. Even I knew I couldn’t ditch Haruhi tonight and run off in search of Asahina. No matter the crisis. No plea known to man would save me from the death sentence, if I dared commit such a crime. I could only hope that Asahina had phoned Koizumi and Nagato, and that they could help. Back during our endless vacation, she’d called them before me, hadn’t she? Call Koizumi, Asahina. Words I never thought I’d think. They sprang willing into my mind now.  
Maybe it’s just something silly, like she’s run out of tea and urgently needs my help to find more.   
Yeah, right.  
I texted Koizumi real fast, just to be sure he was in the loop.  
She’s been in a daze all spring, Asahina. Out of touch to a degree unprecedented even for our innocent and—I admit it—witless angel of the clubroom. But damn, as long as she’s got that face and body, who cares if her head gets emptier with every passing month?  
I stirred restlessly in my corner of the jewelry shop, itching to get out and hunt her down.  
“Kyon? What’s up?” Haruhi was suddenly in front of me, staring. “You look sick.”  
I said I thought I’d eaten some bad octopus.  
“You didn’t have any octopus, we ate Greek. You’re even more out of it than usual. What’s that?”  
She grabbed the cell right out of my hold.  
Crap! Disaster.  
Before I could think, my body acted for me, my hand moving with admirable speed to smack Haruhi’s wrist. If I’d acted out of conscious will, I could never have been fast enough to catch her off guard. _Smack!_ Haruhi cried, “Hey!” The cell flew out of her grip, and somehow I caught it. How’d I done that?  
She raised both hands, her lip twisting. “You didn’t have to do that. I can take a hint.”  
Yeah, no, you can’t. I stowed the phone away; her gaze followed my movement, and her lips became like unto those of a duck, pouting. I’m sorry, Haruhi—I wish I didn’t have to lie to you all the time. That’s a whole new feeling for me, all this guilt over hiding things from you. It’s stupid and leaves me somehow irrationally sad, as if I was mean to you just now. Just because you tried to read my private messages, and I stopped you. See? Irrational.  
While I was feeling ashamed, she stuck her hand in my pocket, stole my phone and ran off, laughing.   
“Let’s see what you’re trying to hide!”  
“Hey give that back!”  
By the time I fought my way past all those girls and out of the shop, Haruhi had vanished.  
I ran right out onto the street, in mortal peril if any traffic came, and looked in every direction. No Haruhi. No phone lying miraculously on the pavement, its compromising text messages unread. Nothing.  
Damn, damn, damn! I hadn’t deleted the earlier message from Koizumi either. Had it contained anything incriminating?  
Then I heard a faint cry. Two seconds later I was slammed into by a weeping armful of Asahina the Younger.  
She almost knocked me over; I would certainly have committed the living cliche of landing under her, flat on my back with a faceful of cleavage. As it was, I reeled and then began frantically patting her shoulder-blades. She was bawling, or had been bawling, so hard that all she could get out was a sort of breathless choked hiccupping, and her lovely innocent eyes swam with tears. The tears dripped over her chin and everything. I panicked instantly and lost all capacity for rational thought. What else could I do?  
Tsuruya. Tsuruya can deal with this. She’s still in the jewelry shop. If I throw Asahina over my shoulder and run with her, will I be able to reach Tsuruya faster?  
But Asahina’s knees seemed to be folding, such that she was now sliding down my body and I had all I could do just to keep her upright. If she fainted on the street now, I’d be arrested and hauled off to jail, wouldn’t I? Can you _die_ from crying too hard?  
“Asahina! What’s wrong?”  
She clutched at me like I was her only anchor. “I, I, I—Kyon, I was classified information my classified information at the cafe table, and I got the emergency recall order code ...”  
“Huh? What’s that?”  
“I’m being recalled,” Asahina sniffled. “Tonight. No warning. I never s-s-saw it coming. It’s not supposed to happen yet. Even I know that.”  
“So, uh, there’s some sort of emergency in the future, and they need you back? Or something?”  
Already my heart was slamming so hard that it threatened to burst out of my rib cage and bounce off down the street.  
... Asahina’s being called home. Home to the future, out of reach. So far out of reach that we’ll never get her back. Asahina’s being called home. Home to the future, out of reach. So far out of reach that we’ll never get her back. Asahina’s being called home ...  
“It’s not like that,” she was babbling, “this contradicts classified information, things can’t happen without warning this way—how could they? even in this unstable time period, how can I contravene my own continuity? Isn’t it a matter of record? How can anything be _unexpected_?” She choked and buried her face in my chest. “And, and I refused the order. I just couldn’t do it. Leave this time, go home—I always thought I wanted to go home but I c-can’t. I don’t want to leave you all, everyone—my friends. And then a superior officer arrived to collect me.”  
My skin went completely cold, as a woman taller than my Asahina—and far, far more mature—emerged from the shadows at the end of the street and walked slowly toward us.  
Asahina the Elder, smiling sadly.  
“There she is!” cried Asahina the Younger. She flung her arms around me and clung as if I was a telephone pole in a typhoon. “My supervisor, come to take me home! I ran away from her but she’s found me! Kyon, help!”  
I think I was having a brain seizure by then. Even in a panic, how could Asahina (small) risk going on like this, talking like this, in the public street—when the last time she’d seen me, I’d been with Haruhi? Not two hours ago, being dragged off by Haruhi, shopping-bound. It was beyond courting doom. Haruhi could arrive any second and find Asahina weeping in my arms. It would be Harupokalypse.  
Even more staggering, how the hell could even Asahina be witless enough to look her older self in the face and _not recognise her_?  
“Kyon.” Asahina the Elder halted in front of me.  
Funny thing. I should have melted at her tender glance, but I found myself feeling something quite different. That late-night phone call, when she’d said ... those things ... undermining my defenses, attacking me without warning and leaving me to the mercy of Haruhi’s subconscious ... I couldn’t look at her the same way now. She’d put all my instincts on guard against her. It was as if in just one day, she’d become an enemy.  
I stiffened, and lifted my chin. At that, she inclined her head slightly, but she didn’t look surprised. She said, “It would have been safest if she hadn’t seen you again.”  
That was nuts. Not even to say goodbye?  
“Not even that. This time ... it’s unstable, STC data is no longer a constant, the very continuity of the timeline is suddenly changing. We realized it when she upstreamed her daily fixed-event log.” The older Asahina shivered. “She’s in terrible danger. We must withdraw her immediately. We should have done it yesterday.”  
I asked the obvious. “Why didn’t you, then?”  
“Because I don’t remember this day. Or these events.”  
“I don’t want to leave the brigade!” the younger Asahina cried, huddled tearfully against my back.  
That’s right. Nobody is allowed to leave the SOS brigade. Haruhi and I had both decided it long since, and that decision had the force of natural law; it could not be denied or broken. No more than time or space or the mind’s secret fastnesses could be meddled with.  
I won’t let this happen!  
Asahina the Elder put her arms around my shoulders. “Don’t grieve so, Kyon. This is for the best. I’ve had a word with Nagato. You and Haruhi will both soon forget.”  
It was then that I looked up and saw—  
Haruhi. Not five steps away. She held out my cell phone, forgotten, as a mischievous smile faded from her lips. She stared at us: the one Asahina holding me in her arms, and the other Asahina hiding her face between my shoulder blades.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can’t argue her unconscious mind into giving up and going away. You can’t argue with it at all. Suzumiya will continue to produce closed space until she gets what she needs. And whatever it is, it may not seem obvious or even right to you. In fact, treating the episode as only a dream might work. Feel free to do whatever you please."

I had a sense that I’d been hunting perversely for this all year long, and now I’d finally found it. The real thing, the ultimate peril, whatever you want to call it. Tasty Asahina sandwich, terrified Kyon filling. The one true recipe for disaster.  
Well, never mind that now.  
Haruhi’s eyes were as big as a child’s as she gawked at the three of us. She still held out my cell phone—it seemed like she’d completely forgotten about it. But it’s a coin toss now whether she’ll listen to my excuses, or put on that out-of-place grin she wears when she wants to kill me _right now._  
I’m feeling irrational shame again.  
I don’t have time for all this. I grabbed Haruhi’s wrist, my body acting on its own even as my amygdala seized control of my prefrontal cortex and gibbered like a chimpanzee. With a vigor she herself might have admired, I yanked her toward us. “You gotta help.” The words spilled out of my mouth. “They’re taking Asahina away.”  
“Mikuru?” Haruhi kept gaping at Asahina the Elder, but suddenly I’d snagged her attention.  
“This is, this is, uhhh—”  
Asahina the Elder took over. “I’m Mikuru’s aunt. She was even named after me! I have the same first and last name as she does.”  
“Wha?”  
All this while Haruhi had been staring mesmerized in Asahina(big)’s direction, but it seemed that her eyes hadn’t risen further than roughly chest-height. Now for the first time she focused on the older Asahina’s face.  
“Yes, we look alike, don’t we?” The elder Asahina winked. You had to admire her iron control, never flinching for an instant though on the brink of apocalypse.  
Asahina the Younger also seemed to be taking in her older self’s appearance for the first time. She was so astonished that she’d forgotten to cry.  
Haruhi’s gaze dropped. She looked at Asahina the Elder’s miniskirt, she looked at her legs, she looked at her chest again—admittedly, an imposing sight. Both Asahinas had let go of me by this point, I hasten to add. They’d gotten well away from me.  
I yanked Haruhi’s wrist again, to get her attention back. And spoke loudly. “She says Asahina has to go away with her. Back home with her, whenever—I mean, wherever—that is. Asahina doesn’t want to go but she doesn’t think she has a choice. She doesn’t want to leave the brigade. You’re brigade chief. Do something.” One last yank, putting Haruhi between me and the elder Asahina. I wasn’t joking around or improvising or just hoping to distract Haruhi. I was in earnest: if anybody tried to break up the SOS Brigade, I was ready to call in the big gun. Haruhi was the big gun, and given the situation, I had to be glad she’d shown up in time to deal with this.  
Yeah. That was right. If Asahina the Elder thought she could just snatch her younger self away, let her face the consequences.  
“Do something now,” I ordered.  
Haruhi came back to life. I still held her wrist; she grabbed mine right back, linking us firmly in a double hold, and her Haruhi-strong grip was just as bullheaded and possessive as ever. Her head went down, her chin jutted out. Her free hand lashed out as an afterthought, and snatched hold of our Asahina’s arm. Dragging the two of us behind her, she advanced upon Asahina the Elder.  
She opened her mouth and began to yell.

Later.  
Alone again, Haruhi and I walked through the dark city streets. I was weighed down by all the bags of loot from our shopping expedition. Stars and streetlights shone down on us. It was a restful interlude.  
I think she was tired. I’d certainly been exhausted by the time Haruhi finished with Asahina the Elder—not that Haruhi hadn’t performed admirably, talking the older Asahina to a standstill and then forcing her to promise not to steal our Asahina without further consultation. It hadn’t been easy. But Haruhi on the rampage, even not taking her world-destroying potential into consideration, was a force to be reckoned with. I was fully aware I’d never equal her when it came to verbally bulldozing an opponent.  
Man. What a day. I’d spent much of it practically glued to Haruhi, continuously in her presence—her hand clamped to my wrist or arm a full sixty-six percent of the time. I should have been much more exasperated than I was. But here’s a strange thing: this quiet walk home with her after the wild Asahina-Haruhi wrestlefest was ... what? Psychologically welcome, leaving me feeling somehow rejuvenated. At peace with the world, and as if tomorrow was nothing to fear.  
It made no sense. After all, Asahina the Younger might yet be unceremoniously yanked back to the future. The Agency could still declare all-out war against Nagato. Koizumi remained under his anti-Celestial-hunting ban. And yet.  
What’s more, our peerless Brigade chief had commanded me to memorize reams of dialogue and offer myself up for extra rehearsals first thing tomorrow morning. “Nine a.m. sharp,” she warned. “I’m gonna knock on your front door with script in hand, so you better not oversleep. If you do, I’m prepared to storm your house by force!”  
She glanced up then, her eyebrows sharply angled.  
“Speaking of storming, maybe I should find out where Mikuru’s aunt is staying, and go over there tomorrow. She seemed pretty reasonable, but it might be worth it. Just to make sure she doesn’t change her mind. Yeah, maybe I’ll phone Mikuru in the morning.”  
When would she have time? We had a busy day ahead, what with all she’d already planned.  
“Mikuru’s a priority. No way I’m gonna let anyone steal her away! Isn’t that right, Kyon? We’ll make the time.”  
It was the right attitude. Though I cringed at the thought of a battle royale between Haruhi and Asahina(big). Still, it was good to be able to depend on someone else, to have some kind of backup. I couldn’t handle the elder Asahina by myself. She viewed me as a useful tool, probably, but no more. I couldn’t call upon Nagato or Koizumi for help against her either; equilibrium once reached has to be preserved, and anyway I didn’t want to make Koizumi overdo things any more than Nagato. Not right now. But Haruhi ... She was ideal for the job, more than up to it, and I didn’t have to worry about her. I could count on her.  
“Hey,” I said, noticing. “Where are we going? I thought we were headed for your house?”  
“Nope. My mom’s home tonight. It would be awkward ... I have someplace better in mind.”  
Okay. I’d have to deal with Nagato later too—I couldn’t forget that. Would Nagato really wipe our memories of our Asahina just because the time travellers wanted her to? Probably not, but everyone placed a high priority on keeping Haruhi’s mind at ease, and Nagato might have agreed just because of that ... Another problem.  
We turned off the street at an alleyway unfamiliar to me. There was starlight, though, and Haruhi walked confidently beside me. Funny thing—she wasn’t taking her usual options, a) dragging me, or b) herding me. We were in step for once.  
This was her neighbourhood, so I guessed she knew its ins and outs.  
She has all kinds of smiles. They’re all bigger and more expansive than Sasaki’s, but now that I thought about it, she and Sasaki have this smile thing in common. Haruhi’s smiles are usually exhausting, though, because I know they mean bad weather on the horizon. So I look away, and I also look away on the general principle that looking at girl-smiles will cause me to have thoughts I’ll later regret. In her case, I’d regret them for the rest of eternity. But still, there is no peace in the world when Haruhi’s in front of me, smiling blindingly.  
Looking sideways at her now, yes, she wore a smile.  
She said, out of nowhere, “I’m sorry for what I said about Koizumi.” While I was trying to remember when she’d said stuff about Koizumi, she went on, “And. Your cell phone, back earlier? I didn’t snoop through your messages. I wouldn’t do something like that. I never would.”  
“Yeah, I know.”  
“You better know it. Hey. It’s been a good day, hasn’t it? You did well, bringing me in on the Mikuru thing. You’ve done well today.” She smiled more, brightly enough to dispel the dark. “No— _we_ did well. Didn’t we?”  
I hadn’t. During those rehearsals, I’d let myself be freaked out and betrayed myself somewhat to Haruhi, and though my blunder seemed to have made her mysteriously happy—her elation all evening long had been catching—I couldn’t forget my mistake. A landslide starts with one small pebble. No more such mistakes in the future, I told myself sternly. The world couldn’t weather them.  
Also, I had to talk to Nagato about the memory-altering thing. Would she really wipe our memories just because Asahina the Elder wanted her to? Maybe to keep Haruhi calm, but still. I needed to do something about that.  
And most important (probably) how the hell could time get so bollixed that Asahina’s personal history itself became mixed-up? So that her older self could be surprised by unexpected events that had happened to her younger self. I mean, was that even possible, and if so, was there a German word which applied to it? This memory/time-space continuum flux. And if it happened—had happened—was happening—how come (positing an organization of time travellers) somebody from the elder Asahina’s future timeline hadn’t sent word back to warn her? If there was indeed an Asahina Deluxe, she clearly needed to get her act together ...  
Damn, I was getting dizzy just visualizing all this. Maybe a Koizumi diagram would make it clearer. If I got the chance, I’d ask for one.  
“Here we are,” Haruhi said. “See, the loose boards lift? Through here.”  
“That’s trespassing. You want me to become a criminal? And there could be mosquitoes.”  
She made a rude noise, and ducked through the gap in the fence.  
It was then that I looked down the length of the alley, and saw a pale shape in the shadows at the far end. It was a short figure in school uniform, but I only saw her for a moment. The instant I spotted her, she vanished, as if with the aid of the finest CGI.  
What the hell?  
Haruhi’s voice drifted to me: “C’mon already!”  
I shrugged and went through the gap.  
I was still mostly thinking about my problems, but nevertheless this was a neat place, a grassy little spot encircled by trees. About five meters from the fence maybe, no more. I scuffed my sneaker across the grass, and then took off my jacket and laid it down. Haruhi sat on it. I put down her bags of loot and sat beside her.  
There, looking up at the stars, we had the following weird conversation.  
“This place isn’t bad. When’d you find it?”  
“Oh, I’ve known about it since I was, uh, grade eight. Yeah, eight. Isn’t it quiet? Like we’re alone in an empty world ...”  
Pause.  
“Say, Kyon.”  
Yeah?  
“How do you feel about the others?”  
What? What did she mean?  
From the rustling, Haruhi was pulling up grass.  
If she was asking about my feelings for Koizumi, I said, I mostly felt that if Koizumi got any worse at games we could probably rent him out to be the fall guy for rigged chess tournaments.  
“Yeah, he’s pretty comprehensively hopeless, isn’t he? No, I mean—about Yuki. I ... She collapsed back at Christmas, remember? And when she was sick and we went to make soup for her, you ... I don’t think her health is good. She’s so small. And she doesn’t eat right.” Haruhi rustled a bit more. “I dunno, I don’t think she’s grown a millimeter the whole past year. I know, I know, Mikuru’s not any taller either, but at least Mikuru looks like she’s old enough to be interesting to boys.”  
It seemed like any opinion I expressed in reply to that last sentence would tend to incriminate me, so I held my tongue.  
“I think she was upset by that friend of yours, that guy around New Year’s, you know?”  
“Nakagawa?”  
“Whoever. He had that whole soppy romance spiel at first, but the moment he actually met her, he ran. That’s gotta have had an effect. She’s sensitive, Yuki. I thought about making them go out together a couple of times, just to see if she was carrying a torch for him ...”  
She wasn’t. I knew all about it, but couldn’t explain it to Haruhi, any more than our Asahina could explain classified information to me.  
“But,” Haruhi continued, “I decided if any guy messed with her, even if he had the world’s best motives, even so, I’d probably have to kill him and bury the body in the bamboo grove behind the school. ‘Cause I don’t wanna see her hurt, huh?”  
Okay. It was good that she was protective of all of us, I guessed.  
Pause.  
Haruhi said, “She was pretty strange, that aunt of Mikuru’s.” Pause. “But don’t worry. I’ll fix her.” After yet another pause, a much longer one: “I’ve been doing good, haven’t I? Kyon?”  
Yes, I said cautiously.  
Pause.  
I was beginning to wonder about these pauses, the blank spaces in the conversation. Oh, well. Haruhi seldom has problems spitting out what she thinks, so maybe she’d explain herself eventually.  
My cell phone in my pants pocket chose that moment to ding.  
She said, “What? ... Stupid phones. Oh, well, go ahead and answer it.”  
It was a text from Koizumi, I saw. “It’s just Koizumi.” I shrugged and put my phone away again without opening the text.  
I felt fairly good about things in general at that moment. That strange feeling of well-being hadn’t gone away—the restful feeling from before—and it had in fact increased as I sat here next to her, dark though it was (and getting pretty late, too). I was sleepy.  
“We should rehearse a bit,” Haruhi said. “I have a flashlight.” She made no attempt to bring out her script copy, though. “But it’s nice to just be lazy.”  
I saw by her silhouette in the dark that she’d turned her head and was looking toward me, not moving otherwise. A rare moment of Haruhi idleness. Or maybe unique was the better word—had it ever happened before? I decided to hold my tongue and just enjoy it.  
“It’s boring,” she said, sounding okay with it, and she leaned her shoulder uncharacteristically against my arm.

I didn’t read that text from Koizumi until later, but let’s jump ahead and include it anyway. Although the damn thing is almost essay-length.  
 _About tonight. That is, about what may happen tonight if Suzumiya’s unconscious mind creates closed space. You seemed sure you’d dealt with the problem yesterday—that it was solved—but there’s something you ought to take into consideration._  
 _Just because you dealt with her ... visit ... yesterday doesn’t mean her unconscious mind will give up._  
 _The unconscious is the repository of hidden feelings and denied urges, not rational thought. It holds knowledge the mind is not currently accessing, memories unprocessed or set aside. All this may surface during dream sleep, because in REM sleep the unconscious is ascendant. Even if, logically, you think the matter ought to be settled, it won’t be settled until her buried wishes are fulfilled._   
_The events of the last few weeks have disturbed the equilibrium of the past year, and Suzumiya may well be in a state of inner turmoil until a new equilibrium is achieved._  
 _So you may find yourself in closed space again tonight._  
 _You can’t argue her unconscious mind into giving up and going away. You can’t argue with it at all. Suzumiya will continue to produce closed space until she gets what she needs. And whatever it is, it may not seem obvious or even right to you. In fact, treating the episode as only a dream might work. Feel free to do whatever you please._  
 _Take care. We espers wish you well, for the sake of the world._

... I must have fallen asleep. Both of us in fact, Haruhi and I, leaning against each other. Or something. Crap! Our moms would kill us if we stayed out all night.  
But I realized that wasn’t important, as I sat upright, gasping, no longer outside but in my own bed at home. Just as before, in Haruhi’s closed space. My door and window were wide open. Blue light blazed through, and Haruhi herself stood very near—close enough to touch—her silhouette stark against the brilliant doorway. She wore pyjamas. A quick check of my own clothing told me I wore my sleeping sweats. Well now, that was just too much. Haruhi would never want this, or stage a scene this clichéd. She didn’t want a boyfriend—she’d said as much a thousand times. So whoever did this deserved a punch in the nose, except there was only one logical suspect: Haruhi herself.  
In a split-second of mental weakness I imagined Haruhi punching me for looking at her in her p.j.’s, and then I’d punch her for putting us both in this situation, after which we’d take turns socking each other throughout eternity ...  
What was she, crazy?  
She spoke. As if strong radio static obscured her voice, I couldn’t make out the message. “I ... you.” Fully half her words were unintelligible. “You ... and ... but ...” With her fists clenched. “... Mikuru—but ...”  
Why had things changed?  
“... fine. It’s fine.”  
Something seemed to clear in the blue hazy light. Those last words had come in pure as a bell.  
“The whole year holding out my hands to you, but you still won’t take them. Why?”  
I swallowed. “Haruhi?”  
She said, “No more _phone calls._ Ever.”  
With her most terrifying grin.  
Yes, things had definitely changed. “That woman,” she said. “She talked to you. She touched you!” The Celestials outside my house were like a solid wall of angry, disturbed blue. They all but hummed like a stirred-up wasp-nest. Still, the stark world of closed space was cracking apart around us, fading away. Whatever this episode was, it was ending without any need for me to act.  
Haruhi too was fading, vanishing even as she spoke, but her furious voice lingered.  
“She’ll never do that again!”  
Gone.  
It was over.  
I was at home, alone. How—?  
It didn’t matter. I suddenly remembered Fujiwara—the unpleasant other time traveller, Asahina’s maybe-brother. Hadn’t thought about him in days. But even the first time I’d met her, the older Asahina had seemed burdened with regrets and a reluctance she’d never explained. She had been like a wounded doe. As for Fujiwara, he’d blustered and danced around the truth, but in the end it had come down to just one thing: unless Haruhi’s powers were removed, Asahina would die.


End file.
